ELSIE 
D1NSMORE 

MARTHA  FINLEY 


If R  Kfll  1      | 

LIBRARY 

UNIVFRSITY    OF 


EDUC. 

"JBRARY 


I     I 


ELSIE 
IHSMORE 


FDUl 


ELSIE 
BINSMORE 

BY 

MARTHA   FINLEY 


Complete  AtUhorized  Edition 


GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 

Publishers  NEW  YOR.K 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1868,  by 

M.  W.   DODD 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States 
for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York 

COPYRIGHT,   1893,   BY 
DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT,    1896,   BY 
MARTHA  FINLEY 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


ELSIE  DINSMORE 

CHAPTER    FIRST 

"I  never  saw  an  eye  so  bright, 

And  yet  so  soft  as  hers; 
It  sometimes   swam   in   Hquid  light, 

And  sometimes  swam  in  tears; 
It  seemed  a  beauty  set  apart 
For  softness  and  for  sighs." 

—MRS.  WELBY, 

THE  school-room  at  Roselands  was  a  very  pleas- 
0nt  apartment;  the  ceiling,  it  is  true,  was  somewhat 
fower  than  in  the  more  modern  portion  of  the 
building,  for  the  wing  in  which  it  was  situated  dated 
back  to  the  old-fashioned  days  prior  to  the  Revo 
lution,  while  the  larger  part  of  the  mansion  had  not 
stood  more  than  twenty  or  thirty  years ;  but  the  effect 
was  relieved  by  windows  reaching  from  floor  to  ceil 
ing,  and  opening  on  a  veranda  which  overlooked  a 
lovely  flower-garden,  beyond  which  were  fields  and 
woods  and  hills.  The  view  from  the  veranda  was 
very  beautiful,  and  the  room  itself  looked  most  in 
viting,  with  its  neat  matting,  its  windows  draped 
with  snow-white  muslin,  its  comfortable  chairs,  and 
pretty  rosewood  desks. 


2  ELSIE  DINSMORE 

Within  this  pleasant  apartment  sat  Miss  Day  with 
her  pupils,  six  in  number.  She  was  giving  a  lesson 
to  Enna,  the  youngest,  the  spoiled  darling  of  the 
family,  the  pet  and  plaything  of  both  father  and 
mother.  It  was  always  a  trying  task  to  both  teacher 
and  scholar,  for  Enna  was  very  wilful,  and  her 
teacher's  patience  by  no  means  inexhaustible. 

"There !"  exclaimed  Miss  Day,  shutting  the  book 
and  giving  it  an  impatient  toss  on  to  the  desk;  "go, 
for  I  might  as  well  try  to  teach  old  Bruno.  I  pre 
sume  he  would  learn  about  as  fast." 

And  Enna  walked  away  with  a  pout  on  her  pretty 
face,  muttering  that  she  would  "tell  mamma." 

"Young  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  Miss  Day, 
looking  at  her  watch,  "I  shall  leave  you  to  your 
studies  for  an  hour;  at  the  end  of  which  time  I  shall 
return  to  hear  your  recitations,  when  those  who  have 
attended  properly  to  their  duties  wrill  be  permitted  to 
ride  out  with  me  to  visit  the  fair." 

"Oh !  that  will  be  jolly !"  exclaimed  Arthur,  a  bright- 
eyed,  mischief-loving  boy  of  ten. 

"Hush !"  said  Miss  Day  sternly ;  "let  me  hear  no 
more  such  exclamations ;  and  remember  that  you  will 
not  go  unless  your  lessons  are  thoroughly  learned. 
Louise  and  Lora,"  addressing  two  young  girls  of  the 
respective  ages  of  twelve  and  fourteen,  "that  French 
exercise  must  be  perfect,  and  your  English  lessons  as 
well.  Elsie,"  to  a  little  girl  of  eight,  sitting  alone  at  a 
desk  near  one  of  the  windows,  and  bending  over  a 
slate  with  an  appearance  of  great  industry,  "every 
figure  of  that  example  must  be  correct,  your  geogra- 


ELSIE  DirTSMORE  3 

phy  lesson  recited  perfectly,  and  a  page  in  your  copy 
book  written  without  a  blot" 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  the  child  meekly,  raising  a 
pair  of  large  soft  eyes  of  the  darkest  hazel  for  an 
instant  to  her  teacher's  face,  and  then  dropping  them 
again  upon  her  slate. 

"And  see  that  none  of  you  leave  the  room  until  I 
return,"  continued  the  governess.  "Walter,  if  you 
miss  one  word  of  that  spelling,  you  will  have  to  stay 
at  home  and  learn  it  over." 

"Unless  mamma  interferes,  as  she  will  be  pretty 
sure  to  do,"  muttered  Arthur,  as  the  door  closed  on 
Miss  Day,  and  her  retreating  footsteps  were  heard 
passing  down  the  hall. 

For  about  ten  minutes  after  her  departure,  all  was 
quiet  in  the  school-room,  each  seemingly  completely 
absorbed  in  study.  But  at  the  end  of  that  time  Ar 
thur  sprang  up,  and  flinging  his  book  across  the  room, 
exclaimed,  "There !  I  know  my  lesson ;  and  if  I  didn't, 
I  shouldn't  study  another  bit  for  old  Day,  or  Night 
either." 

"Do  be  quiet,  Arthur,"  said  his  sister  Louise;  "I 
can't  study  in  such  a  racket." 

Arthur  stole  on  tiptoe  across  the  room,  and  com 
ing  up  behind  Elsie,  tickled  the  back  of  her  neck  with 
a  feather. 

She  started,  saying  in  a  pleading  tone,  "Please,  Ar 
thur,  don't." 

"It  pleases  me  to  do,"  he  said,  repeating  the  experi 
ment. 

Elsie  changed  her  position,  saying  in  the  same  gen- 


4  ELSIE  DINSMORE 

tie,  persuasive  tone,  "O  Arthur !  please  let  me  alone,  or 
I  never  shall  be  able  to  do  this  example." 

"What !  all  this  time  on  one  example !  you  ought  to 
be  ashamed.  Why,  I  could  have  done  it  half  a  dozen 
times  over." 

"I  have  been  over  and  over  it,"  replied  the  little  girl 
in  a  tone  of  despondency,  "and  still  there  are  two 
figures  that  will  not  come  right." 

"How  do  you  know  they  are  not  right,  little  puss?" 
shaking  her  curls  as  he  spoke. 

"Oh!  please,  Arthur,  don't  pull  my  hair.  I  have 
the  answer— that's  the  way  I  know." 

"Well,  then,  why  don't  you  just  set  the  figures 
down.  I  would." 

"Oh !  no,  indeed ;  that  would  not  be  honest." 

"Pooh !  nonesense !  nobody  would  be  the  wiser,  nor 
the  poorer." 

"No,  but  it  would  be  just  like  telling  a  lie.  But  I 
can  never  get  it  right  while  you  are  bothering  me  so," 
said  Elsie,  laying  her  slate  aside  in  despair.  Then 
taking  out  her  geography,  she  began  studying  most 
diligently.  But  Arthur  continued  his  persecutions- 
tickling  her,  pulling  her  hair,  twitching  the  book  out 
of  her  hand,  and  talking  almost  incessantly,  making 
remarks,  and  asking  questions ;  till  at  last  Elsie  said, 
as  if  just  ready  to  cry,  "Indeed,  Arthur,  if  you  don't 
let  me  alone,  I  shall  never  be  able  to  get  my  lessons." 

"Go  away  then ;  take  your  book  out  on  the  veranda, 
and  learn  your  lessons  there,"  said  Louise.  "I'll  call 
you  when  Miss  Day  comes." 

"Oh !  no,  Louise,  I  cannot  do  that,  because  it  would 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  5 

be  disobedience,"  replied  Elsie,  taking  out  her  writing 
materials. 

Arthur  stood  over  her  criticising  every  letter  she 
made,  and  finally  jogged  her  elbow  in  such  a  way  as 
to  cause  her  to  drop  all  the  ink  in  her  pen  upon  the 
paper,  making  quite  a  large  blot. 

"Oh !"  cried  the  little  girl,  bursting  into  tears,  "now 
I  shall  lose  my  ride,  for  Miss  Day  will  not  let  me  go ; 
and  I  was  so  anxious  to  see  all  those  beautiful  flow 
ers." 

Arthur,  who  was  really  not  very  vicious,  felt  some 
compunction  when  he  saw  the  mischief  he  had  done. 
"Never  mind,  Elsie,"  said  he.  "I  can  fix  it  yet.  Just 
let  me  tear  out  this  page,  and  you  can  begin  again  on 
the  next,  and  I'll  not  bother  you.  I'll  make  these  two 
figures  come  right  too,"  he  added,  taking  up  her  slate. 

"Thank  you,  Arthur,"  said  the  little  girl,  smiling 
through  her  tears;  "you  are  very  kind,  but  it  would 
not  be  honest  to  do  either,  and  I  had  rather  stay  at 
home  than  be  deceitful." 

"Very  well,  miss,"  said  he,  tossing  his  head,  and 
walking  away,  "since  you  won't  let  me  help  you,  it  is 
all  your  own  fault  if  you  have  to  stay  at  home." 

"Elsie,"  exclaimed  Louise,  "I  have  no  patience  with 
you!  such  ridiculous  scruples  as  you  are  always  rais 
ing.  I  shall  not  pity  you  one  bit,  if  you  are  obliged  to 
stay  at  home." 

Elsie  made  no  reply,  but,  brushing  away  a  tear,  bent 
over  her  writing,  taking  great  pains  with  every  letter, 
though  saying  sadly  to  herself  all  the  time,  "It's  of  no 
u^,  for  that  great  ugly  blot  will  spoil  it  all." 


6  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

She  finished  her  page,  and,  excepting  the  unfortu 
nate  blot,  it  all  looked  very  neat  indeed,  showing 
plainly  that  it  had  been  written  with  great  care.  She 
then  took  up  her  slate  and  patiently  went  over  and 
over  every  figure  of  the  troublesome  example,  trying 
to  discover  where  her  mistake  had  been.  But  much 
time  had  been  lost  through  Arthur's  teasing,  and  her 
mind  was  so  disturbed  by  the  accident  to  her  writing 
that  she  tried  in  vain  to  fix  it  upon  the  business  in 
hand;  and  before  the  two  troublesome  figures  had 
been  made  right,  the  hour  was  past  and  Miss  Day  re 
turned. 

"Oh!"  thought  Elsie,  "if  she  will  only  hear  the 
others  first,  I  may  be  able  to  get  this  and  the  geogra 
phy  ready  yet;  and  perhaps,  if  Arthur  will  be  gener 
ous  enough  to  tell  her  about  the  blot,  she  may  excuse 
me  for  it." 

But  it  was  a  vain  hope.  Miss  Day  had  no  sooner 
seated  herself  at  her  desk,  than  she  called,  "Elsie, 
come  here  and  say  that  lesson;  and  bring  your  copy 
book  and  slate,  that  I  may  examine  your  work." 

Elsie  tremblingly  obeyed. 

The  lesson,  though  a  difficult  one,  was  very  tolera 
bly  recited ;  for  Elsie,  knowing  Arthur's  propensity  for 
teasing,  had  studied  it  in  her  own  room  before  school 
hours.  But  Miss  Day  handed  back  the  book  with  a 
frown,  saying,  "I  told  you  the  recitation  must  be  per 
fect,  and  it  was  not." 

She  was  always  more  severe  with  Elsie  than  with 
any  other  of  her  pupils.     The  reason  the  reader 
probably  be  able  to  divine  ere  long. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  7 

''There  are  two  incorrect  figures  in  this  example/' 
said  she,  laying  down  the  slate,  after  glancing  over  its 
contents.  Then  taking  up  the  copy-book,  she  ex 
claimed,  "Careless,  disobedient  child!  did  I  not  cau 
tion  you  to  be  careful  not  to  blot  your  book!  There 
will  be  no  ride  for  you  this  morning.  You  have  failed 
in  everything.  Go  to  your  seat.  Make  that  example 
right,  and  do  the  next ;  learn  your  geography  lesson 
over,  and  write  another  page  in  your  copy-book;  and, 
mind,  if  there  is  a  blot  on  it,  you  will  get  no  dinner." 

Weeping  and  sobbing,  Elsie  took  up  her  books  and 
obeyed. 

During  this  scene  Arthur  stood  at  his  desk  pretend 
ing  to  study,  but  glancing  every  now  and  then  at  Elsie, 
with  a  conscience  evidently  ill  at  ease.  She  cast  an  im 
ploring  glance  at  him,  as  she  returned  to  her  seat ;  but 
he  turned  away  his  head,  muttering,  "It's  all  her  own 
fault,  for  she  wouldn't  let  me  help  her." 

As  he  looked  up  again,  he  caught  his  sister  Lora's 
eyes  fixed  on  him  with  an  expression  of  scorn  and  con 
tempt.  He  colored  violently,  and  dropped  his  eyes 
upon  his  book. 

"Miss  Day,"  said  Lora,  indignantly,  "I  see  Arthur 
does  not  mean  to  speak,  and  as  I  cannot  bear  to  see 
such  injustice,  I  must  tell  you  that  it  is  all  his  fault 
that  Elsie  has  failed  in  her  lessons;  for  she  tried  her 
very  best, but  he  teased  her  incessantly,  and  also  jogged 
her  elbow  and  made  her  spill  the  ink  on  her  book ;  and 
to  her  credit  she  was  too  honorable  to  tear  out  the  leaf 
Crom  her  copy-book,  or  to  let  him  make  her  example 


8  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

right;  both  which  he  very  generously  proposed  doing 
after  causing  all  the  mischief." 

"Is  this  so,  Arthur?"  asked  Miss  Day,  angrily. 

The  boy  hung  his  head,  but  made  no  reply. 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  Miss  Day,  "you  too  must 
stay  at  home." 

"Surely,"  said  Lora,  in  surprise,  "you  will  not  keep 
Elsie,  since  I  have  shown  you  that  she  was  not  to 
blame." 

"Miss  Lora,"  replied  her  teacher,  haughtily,  "I  wish 
you  to  understand  that  I  am  not  to  be  dictated  to  by 
my  pupils." 

Lora  bit  her  lip,  but  said  nothing,  and  Miss  Day 
went  on  hearing  the  lessons  without  further  remark. 

In  the  meantime  the  little  Elsie  sat  at  her  desk, 
striving  to  conquer  the  feelings  of  anger  and  indigna 
tion  that  were  swelling  in  her  breast ;  for  Elsie,  though 
she  possessed  much  of  "the  ornament  of  a  meek  and 
quiet  spirit,"  was  not  yet  perfect,  and  often  had  a  fierce 
contest  with  her  naturally  quick  temper.  Yet  it  was 
seldom,  very  seldom  that  word  or  tone  or  look  betrayed 
the  existence  of  such  feelings ;  and  it  was  a  common 
remark  in  the  family  that  Elsie  had  no  spirit. 

The  recitations  were  scarcely  finished  when  the  door 
opened  and  a  lady  entered  dressed  for  a  ride. 

"Not  through  yet,  Miss  Day?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  madam,  we  are  just  done,"  replied  the  teacher, 
closing  the  French  grammar  and  handing  it  to  Louise. 

"Well,  I  hope  your  pupils  have  all  done  their  duty 
this  morning,  and  are  ready  to  accompany  us  to  th6 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  9 

fair,"  said  Mrs.  Dinsmore.  "But  what  is  the  matter 
with  Elsie?" 

"She  has  failed  in  all  her  exercises,  and  therefore  has 
been  told  that  she  must  remain  at  home,"  replied  Miss 
Day  with  heightened  color  and  in  a  tone  of  anger; 
"and  as  Miss  Lora  tells  me  that  Master  Arthur  was 
partly  the  cause,  I  have  forbidden  him  also  to  accom 
pany  us." 

"Excuse  me,  Miss  Day,  for  correcting  you,"  sail 
Lora,  a  little  indignantly ;  "but  I  did  not  say  partly,  for 
I  am  sure  it  was  entirely  his  fault." 

"Hush,  hush,  Lora,"  said  her  mother,  a  little  impa 
tiently;  "how  can  you  be  sure  of  any  such  thing;  Miss 
Day,  I  must  beg  of  you  to  excuse  Arthur  this  once,  for 
I  have  quite  set  my  heart  on  taking  him  along.  He  is 
fond  of  mischief,  I  know,  but  he  is  only  a  child,  and 
you  must  not  be  too  hard  upon  him." 

"Very  well,  madam,"  replied  the  governess  stiffly, 
"you  have  of  course  the  best  right  to  control  your  own 
children." 

Mrs.  Dinsmore  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

"Mamma,"  asked  Lora,  "is  not  Elsie  to  be  allowed 
to  go  too?" 

"Elsie  is  not  my  child,  and  I  have  nothing  to  say 
about  it.  Miss  Day,  who  knows  all  the  circumstances, 
is  much  better  able  than  I  to  judge  whether  or  no  she 
is  deserving  of  punishment,"  replied  Mrs.  Dinsmore, 
sailing  out  of  the  room. 

"You  will  let  her  go,  Miss  Day?"  said  Lora,  in 
quiringly. 

"Miss  Lora,"  replied  Miss  Day,  angrily,  "I  have  al- 


10  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

ready  told  you  I  was  not  to  be  dictated  to  I  have  said 
Elsie  must  remain  at  home,  and  I  shall  not  break  my 
word." 

"Such  injustice!"  muttered  Lora,  turning  away. 

"Lora,"  said  Louise,  impatiently,  "why  need  you 
concern  yourself  with  Elsie's  affairs?  for  my  part,  I 
have  no  pity  for  her,  so  full  as  she  is  of  nonsensical 
scruples." 

Miss  Day  crossed  the  room  to  where  Elsie  was  sit 
ting  leaning  her  head  upon  the  desk,  struggling  hard 
to  keep  down  the  feelings  of  anger  and  indignation 
aroused  by  the  unjust  treatment  she  had  received. 

"Did  I  not  order  you  to  learn  that  lesson  over?"  said 
the  governess,  "and  why  are  you  sitting  here  idling?" 

Elsie  dared  not  speak  lest  her  anger  should  show 
-itself  in  words ;  so  merely  raised  her  head,  and  hastily 
brushing  away  her  tears,  opened  the  book.  But  Miss 
Day,  who  was  irritated  by  Mrs.  Dinsmore's  interefer- 
ence,  and  also  by  the  consciousness  that  she  was  acting 
unjustly,  seemed  determined  to  vent  her  displeasure 
upon  her  innocent  victim. 

"Why  do  you  not  speak?"  she  exclaimed,  seizing 
Elsie  by  the  arm  and  shaking  her  violently.  "Answer 
me  this  instant.  Why  have  you  been  idling  all  the 
morning  ?" 

"I  have  not,"  replied  the  child  hastily,  stung  to  the 
quick  by  her  unjust  violence.  "I  have  tried  hard  to  do 
my  duty,  and  you  are  punishing  me  when  I  don't  de 
serve  it  at  all." 

"How  dare  you?  there!  take  that  for  your  imperti 
nence,"  said  Miss  Day,  giving  her  a  box  on  the  ear. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  11 

Elsie  was  about  to  make  a  still  more  angry  reply; 
but  she  restrained  herself,  and  turning  to  her  book, 
tried  to  study,  though  the  hot,  blinding  tears  came  so 
thick  and  fast  that  she  could  not  see  a  letter. 

"De  carriage  am  waiting,  ladies,  an'  missus  in  a 
hurry,"  said  a  servant,  opening  the  door;  and  Miss 
Day  hastily  quitted  the  room,  followed  by  Louise  and 
Lora ;  and  Elsie  was  left  alone. 

She  laid  down  the  geography,  and  opening  her  desk, 
took  out  a  small  pocket  Bible,  which  bore  the  marks  of 
frequent  use.  She  turned  over  the  leaves  as  though 
seeking  for  some  particular  passage;  at  length  she 
found  it,  and  wiping  away  the  blinding  tears,  she 
read  these  words  in  a  low,  murmuring  tone : 

"For  this  is  thankworthy,  if  a  man  for  conscience 
toward  God  endure  grief,  suffering  wrongfully.  For 
what  glory  is  it  if,  when  ye  be  buffeted  for  your  faults, 
ye  shall  take  it  patiently?  but  if  when  ye  do  well,  and 
suffer  for  it,  ye  take  it  patiently,  this  is  acceptable  with 
God.  For  even  hereunto  were  ye  called;  because 
Christ  also  suffered  for  us,  leaving  us  an  example  that 
ye  should  follow  His  steps." 

"Oh !  I  have  not  done  it.  I  did  not  take  it  patiently. 
I  am  afraid  I  am  not  following  in  His  steps,"  she  cried, 
bursting  into  an  agony  of  tears  and  sobs. 

"My  dear  little  girl,  what  is  the  matter?"  asked  a 
kind  voice,  and  a  soft  hand  was  gently  laid  on  her 
shoulder. 

The  child  looked  up  hastily.  "O  Miss  Allison!"  she 
said,  "is  it  you  ?  I  thought  I  was  quite  alone." 

"And  so  you  were,  ray  dear,  until  this  moment"  re* 


12  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

plied  the  lady,  drawing  up  a  chair,  and  sitting  down 
close  beside  her.  "I  was  on  the  veranda,  and  hearing 
sobs,  came  in  to  see  if  I  could  be  of  any  assistance. 
You  look  very  much  distressed;  will  you  not  tell  me 
the  cause  of  your  sorrow  ?" 

Elsie  answered  only  by  a  fresh  burst  of  tears. 

"They  have  all  gone  to  the  fair  and  left  you  at  home 
alone ;  perhaps  to  learn  a  lesson  you  have  failed  in  re 
citing?"  said  the  lady,  inquiringly. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  the  child ;  "but  that  is  not  the 
worst;"  and  her  tears  fell  faster,  as  she  laid  the  little 
Bible  on  the  desk,  and  pointed  with  her  finger  to  the 
words  she  had  been  reading.  "Oh !"  she  sobbed,  "I — I 
did  not  do  it ;  I  did  not  bear  it  patiently.  I  was  treated 
unjustly,  and  punished  when  I  was  not  to  blame,  and 
I  grew  angry.  Oh!  I'm  afraid  I  shall  never  be  like 
Jesus !  never,  never." 

The  child's  distress  seemed  very  great,  and  Miss  Al 
lison  was  extremely  surprised.  She  was  a  visitor  who 
had  been  in  the  house  only  a  few  days,  and,  herself  a 
devoted  Christian,  had  been  greatly  pained  by  the  ut 
ter  disregard  of  the  family  in  which  she  was  sojourn 
ing  for  the  teachings  of  God's  word.  Rose  Allison 
was  from  the  North,  and  Mr.  Dinsmore,  the  proprietor 
of  Roselands,  was  an  old  friend  of  her  father,  to  whom 
he  had  been  paying  a  visit,  and  finding  Rose  in  delicate 
health,  he  had  prevailed  upon  her  parents  to  allow  her 
to  spend  the  winter  months  with  his  family  in  the  more 
congenial  clime  of  their  Southern  home. 

"My  poor  child,'*  she  said,  passing  her  arm  aroun<f 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  13 

the  little  one's  waist,  "my  poor  little  Elsie !  that  is  your 
name,  is  it  not?" 

"Yes,  ma'am;  Elsie  Dinsmore,"  replied  the  little  girl. 

"Well,  Elsie,  let  me  read  you  another  verse  from  this 
blessed  book.    Here  it  is:    'The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ 
his  Son,  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin/     And  here  again; 
'If  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with  the  Father 
Jesus  Christ  the  righteous/     Dear  Elsie,  'if  we  con- 
fess  our  sins,  He  is  faithful  and  just  to  forgive  us  our 
sins/  " 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  the  child;  "I  have  asked  Him 
to  forgive  me,  and  I  know  He  has ;  but  I  am  so  sorry, 
-oh!  so  sorry  that  I  htive  grieved  and  displeased  Him; 
for,  O  Miss  Allison!  I  do  love  Jesus,  and  want  to  be 
like  Him  always." 

"Yes,  dear  child,  we  must  grieve  for  our  sins  when 
we  remember  that  they  helped  to  slay  the  Lord.  But 
I  am  very,  very  glad  to  learn  that  you  love  Jesus,  and 
are  striving  to  do  His  will.  I  love  Him  too,  and  we 
will  love  one  another ;  for  you  know  He  says,  'By  this 
shall  men  know  that  ye  are  my  disciples,  if  ye  have 
love  one  to  another,' "  said  Miss  Allison,  stroking  the 
little  girl's  hair,  and  kissing  her  tenderly. 

"Will  you  love  me  ?  Oh !  how  glad  I  am,"  exclaimed 
the  child  joyfully;  "I  have  nobody  to  love  me  but 
poor  old  mammy." 

"And  who  is  mammy?"  asked  the  lady. 

"My  dear  old  nurse,  who  has  always  taken  care  of 
me.  Have  you  not  seen  her,  ma'am?" 

"Perhaps  I  may.  I  have  seen  a  number  of  nice  old 
colored  women  about  here  since  I  came.  But,  Elsie, 


14  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

will  you  tell  me  who  taught  you  about  Jesus,  and  how 
long  you  have  loved  Him?" 

"Ever  since  I  can  remember,"  replied  the  little  girl 
earnestly ;  "and  it  was  dear  old  mammy  who  first  told 
me  how  He  suffered  and  died  on  the  cross  for  us." 
Her  eyes  filled  with  tears  and  her  voice  quivered  with 
emotion.  "She  used  to  talk  to  me  about  it  just  as  soon 
as  I  could  understand  anything,"  she  continued ;  "and 
then  she  would  tell  me  that  my  own  dear  mamma  loved 
Jesus,  and  had  gone  to  be  with  Him  in  heaven ;  and 
how,  when  she  was  dying,  she  put  me — a  little,  wee 
baby,  I  was  then  not  quite  a  week  old — into  her  arms, 
and  said,  'Mammy,  take  my  dear  little  baby  and  love 
her,  and  take  care  of  her  just  as  you  did  of  me;  and 
O  mammy !  be  sure  that  you  teach  her  to  love  God/ 
Would  you  like  to  see  my  mamma,  Miss  Allison?" 

And  as  she  spoke  she  drew  from  her  bosom  a  minia 
ture  set  in  gold  and  diamonds,  which  she  wore  sus 
pended  by  a  gold  chain  around  her  neck,  and  put  it  in 
Rose's  hand. 

It  was  the  likeness  of  a  young  and  blooming  girl, 
not  more  than  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  of  age.  She  was 
very  beautiful,  with  a  sweet,  gentle,  winning  counte 
nance,  the  same  soft  hazel  eyes  and  golden  brown  curls 
that  the  little  Elsie  possessed ;  the  same  regular  fea 
tures,  pure  complexion,  and  sweet  smile. 

Miss  Allison  gazed  at  it  a  moment  in  silent  admira 
tion  ;  then  turning  from  it  to  the  child  with  a  puzzled 
expression,  she  said,  "But,  Elsie,  I  do  not  understand ; 
are  you  not  sister  to  Enna  and  the  rest,  and  is  not  Mrs. 
Dinsmore  own  mother  to  them  all?" 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  15 

*'Yes,  ma'am,  to  all  of  them,  but  not  to  me  nor  my 
papa.  Their  brother  Horace  is  my  papa,  and  so  they 
are  all  my  aunts  and  uncles." 

"Indeed,"  said  the  lady,  musingly;  "I  thought  you 
looked  very  unlike  the  rest.  And  your  papa  is  away, 
is  he  not,  Elsie?" 

"Yes,  ma'am;  he  is  in  Europe.  He  has  been  away 
almost  ever  since  I  was  born,  and  I  have  never  seen 
him.  Oh !  how  I  do  wish  he  would  come  home !  how 
I  long  to  see  him!  Do  you  think  he  would  love  me, 
Miss  Allison  ?  Do  you  think  he  would  take  me  on  his 
knee  and  pet  me,  as  grandpa  does  Enna  ?" 

"I  should  think  he  would,  dear ;  I  don't  know  how  he 
could  help  loving  his  own  dear  little  girl,"  said  the 
lady,  again  kissing  the  little  rosy  cheek.  "But  now," 
she  added,  rising,  "I  must  go  away  and  let  you  learn 
your  lesson." 

Then  taking  up  the  little  Bible,  and  turning  over 
the  leaves,  she  asked,  "Would  you  like  to  come  to  my 
room  sometimes  in  the  mornings  and  evenings,  and 
read  this  book  with  me,  Elsie?" 

"Oh !  yes,  ma'am,  dearly !"  exclaimed  the  child,  her 
eyes  sparkling  with  pleasure. 

"Come  then  this  evening,  if  you  like ;  and  now  good 
bye  for  the  present."  And  pressing  another  kiss  on 
the  child's  cheek,  she  left  her  and  went  back  to  her 
own  room,  where  she  found  her  friend  Adelaide  Dins- 
more,  a  young  lady  near  her  own  age,  and  the  eldest 
daughter  of  the  family.  Adelaide  was  seated  on  a 
sofa,  busily  employed  with  some  fancy  work. 

"You  see  I  am  making  myself  quite  at  home,"  she 


16  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

said,  looking  up  as  Rose  entered.  "I  cannot  imagine 
where  you  have  been  all  this  time." 

''Can  you  not?  In  the  school-room,  talking  with 
little  Elsie.  Do  you  know,  Adelaide,  I  thought  she 
was  your  sister;  but  she  tells  me  not." 

"No,  she  is  Horace's  child.  I  supposed  you  knew; 
but  if  you  do  not,  I  may  just  as  well  tell  you  the  whole 
story.  Horace  was  a  very  wild  boy,  petted  and  spoiled, 
and  always  used  to  having  his  own  way ;  and  when  he 
was  about  seventeen — quite  a  forward  youth  he  was 
too — he  must  needs  go  to  New  Orleans  to  spend  some 
months  with  a  schoolmate ;  and  there  he  met,  and  fell 
desperately  in  love  with,  a  very  beautiful  girl  a  year 
o:  two  younger  than  himself,  an  orphan  and  very 
wealthy.  Fearing  that  objections  would  be  made  on 
the  score  of  their  youth,  etc.,  etc.,  he  persuaded  her  to 
consent  to  a  private  marriage,  and  they  had  been  man 
and  wife  for  some  months  before  either  her  friends  or 
his  suspected  it. 

"Well,  when  it  came  at  last  to  papa's  ears,  he  was 
very  angry,  both  on  account  of  their  extreme  youth, 
and  because,  as  Elsie  Grayson's  father  had  made  all 
his  money  by  trade,  he  did  not  consider  her  quite  my 
brother's  equal;  so  he  called  Horace  home  and  sent 
him  North  to  college.  Then  he  studied  law,  and  since 
that  he  has  been  traveling  in  foreign  lands.  But  to  re 
turn  to  his  wife ;  it  seems  that  her  guardian  was  quite 
as  much  opposed  to  the  match  as  papa;  and  the  poor 
girl  was  made  to  believe  that  she  should  never  see  her 
husband  again.  All  their  letters  were  intercepted,  and 
finally  she  was  told  that  he  was  dead ;  so,  as  Aunt 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  17 

Chloe  says,  'she  grew  thin  and  pale,  and  weak  and  mel 
ancholy/  and  while  the  little  Elsie  was  yet  not  quite  a 
week  old,  she  died.  We  never  saw  her;  she  died  in  her 
guardian's  house,  and  there  the  little  Elsie  stayed  in 
charge  of  Aunt  Chloe,  who  was  an  old  servant  in  the 
family,  and  had  nursed  her  mother  before  her,  and  of 
the  housekeeper,  Mrs.  Murray,  a  pious  old  Scotch 
woman,  until  about  four  years  ago,  when  her  guar 
dian's  death  broke  up  the  family,  and  then  they  came 
to  us.  Horace  never  comes  home,  and  does  not  seem 
to  care  for  his  child,  for  he  never  mentions  her  in 
his  letters,  except  when  it  is  necessary  in  the  way  of 
business." 

"She  is  a  dear  little  thing,"  said  Ros^e.  "I  am  sure 
he  could  not  help  loving  her,  if  he  could  only  see  her/' 

"Oh!  yes,  she  is  well  enough,  and  I  often  feel  sorry 
for  the  lonely  little  thing,  but  the  truth  is,  I  believe 
we  are  a  little  jealous  of  her;  she  is  so  extremely 
beautiful,  and  heiress  to  such  an  immense  fortune. 
Mamma  often  frets,  and  says  that  one  of  these  days 
she  will  quite  eclipse  her  younger  daughters." 

"But  then,"  said  Rose,  "she  is  almost  as  near;  her 
own  grand-daughter." 

"No,  she  is  not  so  very  near,"  replied  Adelaide,  "for 
Horace  is  not  mamma's  son.  He  was  seven  or  eight 
years  old  when  she  married  papa,  and  I  think  she  was 
never  particularly  fond  of  him." 

"Ah!  yes,"  thought  Rose,  "that  explains  it.  Poor 
little  Elsie!  No  wonder  you  pine  for  your  father's 
love,  and  grieve  over  the  loss  of  the  mother  you  never 
knew!" 


18  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"She  is  an  odd  child,"  said  Adelaide;  'I  don't  un 
derstand  her ;  she  is  so  meek  and  patient  she  will  fairly 
let  you  trample  upon  her.  It  provokes  papa.  He  says 
she  is  no  Dinsmore,  or  she  would  know  how  to  stand 
up  for  her  own  rights;  and  yet  she  has  a  temper,  I 
know,  for  once  in  a  great  while  it  shows  itself  for  an 
instant — only  an  instant,  though,  and  at  very  long  inter 
vals — and  then  she  grieves  over  it  for  days,  as  though 
she  had  committed  some  great  crime ;  while  the  rest  of 
us  think  nothing  of  geting  angry  half  a  dozen  times 
in  a  day.  And  then  she  is  forever  poring  over  that  lit 
tle  Bible  of  hers ;  what  she  sees  so  attractive  in  it  I'm 
sure  I  cannot  tell,  for  I  must  say  I  find  it  the  dullest 
of  dull  books." 

"Do  you,"  said  Rose;  "how  strange!  I  had  rather 
give  up  all  other  books  than  that  one.  'Thy  testi 
monies  have  I  taken  as  a  heritage  forever,  for  they  are 
the  rejoicing  of  my  heart/  'How  sweet  are  thy  words 
unto  my  taste!  Yea,  sweeter  than  honey  to  my 
mouth/  " 

"Do  you  really  love  it  so,  Rose?"  asked  Adelaide, 
lifting  her  eyes  to  her  friend's  face  with  an  expres 
sion  of  astonishment;  "do  tell  me  why?" 

"For  its  exceeding  great  and  precious  promises 
Adelaide;  for  its  holy  teachings;  for  its  offers  of 
peace  and  pardon  and  eternal  life.  I  am  a  sinner, 
Adelaide,  lost,  ruined,  helpless,  hopeless,  and  the  Bible 
brings  me  the  glad  news  of  salvation  offered  as  a  free, 
unmerited  gift;  it  tells  me  that  Jesus  died  to  save  sin 
ners — just  such  sinners  as  I.  I  find  that  I  have  a  heart 
deceitful  above  all  things  and  desperately  wicked,  and 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  ig 

the  blessed  Bible  tells  me  how  that  heart  can  be  re 
newed,  and  where  I  can  obtain  that  holiness  without 
which  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord.  I  find  myself  ut 
terly  unable  to  keep  God's  holy  law,  and  it  tells  me  of 
One  who  has  kept  it  for  me.  I  find  that  I  deserve  the 
wrath  and  curse  of  a  justly  offended  God,  and  it  tells 
me  of  Him  who  was  made  a  curse  for  me.  I  find  that 
all  my  righteousnesses  are  as  filthy  rags,  and  it  offers 
me  the  beautiful,  spotless  robe  of  Christ's  perfect 
righteousness.  Yes,  it  tells  me  that  God  can  be  just, 
and  the  justifier  of  him  who  believes  in  Jesus." 

Rose  spoke  these  words  with  deep  emotion,  then 
suddenly  clasping  her  hands  and  rasing  her  eyes,  she 
exclaimed,  "Thanks  be  unto  God  for  His  unspeak 
able  gift!'" 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  Then  Adelaide 
spoke : 

"Rose,"  said  she,  "you  talk  as  if  you  were  a  great 
sinner;  but  I  don't  believe  it;  it  is  only  your  humility 
that  makes  you  think  so.  Why,  what  have  you  ever 
done?  Had  you  been  a  thief,  a  murderer,  or  guilty 
of  any  other  great  crime,  I  could  see  the  propriety  of 
your  using  such  language  with  regard  to  yourself ;  but 
for  a  refined,  intelligent,  amiable  young  lady,  excuse 
me  for  saying  it,  dear  Rose,  but  such  language  seems 
to  me  simply  absurd." 

"Man  looketh  upon  the  outward  appearance,  but  the 
Lord  pondereth  the  heart,"  said  Rose,  gently.  "No, 
dear  Adelaide,  you  are  mistaken;  for  I  can  truly  say 
'mine  iniquities  have  gone  over  my  head  as  a  cloud; 
and  my  transgressions  as  a  thick  cloud."  Every  duty 


20  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

has  been  stained  with  sin,  every  motive  impure,  every 
thought  unholy.  From  my  earliest  existence,  God  has 
required  the  undivided  love  of  my  whole  heart,  soul, 
strength,  and  mind ;  and  so  far  from  yielding  it,  7  dive 
at  enmity  with  Him,  and  rebellion  against  Hk,  gov 
ernment,  until  within  the  last  two  years.  For  seven 
teen  years  He  has  showered  blessings  upon  me,  giving 
me  life,  health,  strength,  friends,  and  all  that  was 
necessary  for  happiness;  and  for  fifteen  of  those  years 
I  returned  Him  nothing  but  ingratitude  and  rebellion. 
For  fifteen  years  I  rejected  His  offers  of  pardon  and 
reconciliation,  turned  my  back  upon  the  Saviour  of 
sinners,  and  resisted  all  the  strivings  of  God's  Holy 
Spirit,  and  will  you  say  that  I  am  not  a  great  sinner  ?" 
Her  voice  quivered,  and  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"Dear  Rose,"  said  Adelaide,  putting  her  arm  around 
her  friend  and  kissing  her  cheek  affectionately,  "don't 
think  of  these  things ;  religion  is  too  gloomy  for  one  so 
young  as  you." 

"Gloomy,  dear  Adelaide!"  replied  Rose,  returning 
the  embrace ;  "I  never  knew  what  true  happiness  was 
until  I  found  Jesus.  My  sins  often  make  me  sad,  but 
religion,  never. 

"'Oft  I  walk  beneath  the  cloud, 
Dark  as  midnight's  gloomy  shroud; 
But  when  fear  is  at  the  height, 
Jesus  comes,  and  all  is  light.'" 


CHAPTER  SECOND 

**Thy  injuries  would  teach  patience  to  blaspheme, 
Yet  still  thou  art  a  dove." 

— BEAUMONT'S  Double  Marriage* 

"When  forced  to  part  from  those  we  love, 

Though  sure  to  meet  to-morrow; 
We  yet  a  kind  of  anguish  prove 

And  feel  a  touch  of  sorrow. 
But  oh !  what  words  can  paint  the  fears 

When  from  these  friends  we  sever, 
Perhaps  to  part  for  months — for  years — 
Perhaps  to  part  forever." 

— ANON. 

WHEN  Miss  Allison  had  gone,  and  Elsie  found  her 
self  once  more  quite  alone,  she  rose  from  her  chair, 
and  kneeling  down  with  the  open  Bible  before  her,  she 
poured  out  her  story  of  sins  and  sorrows,  in  simple, 
child-like  words,  into  the  ears  of  the  dear  Saviour  whom 
she  loved  so  well;  confessing  that  when  she  had  done 
well  and  suffered  for  it,  she  had  not  taken  it  patiently, 
and  earnestly  pleading  that  she  might  be  made  like 
unto  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus.  Low  sobs  burst  from 
her  burdened  heart,  and  the  tears  of  penitence  fell 
upon  the  pages  of  the  holy  book.  But  when  she  rose 
from  her  knees,  her  load  of  sin  and  sorrow  was  all 
gone,  and  her  heart  made  light  and  happy  with  a  sweet 
sense  of  peace  and  pardon.  Once  again,  as  often 

21 


22  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

before,  the  little  Elsie  was  made  to  experience  the 
blessedness  of  "the  man  whose  transgression  is  for 
given,  whose  sin  is  covered." 

She  now  set  to  work  diligently  at  her  studies,  and  ere 
the  party  returned  was  quite  prepared  to  meet  Miss 
Day,  having  attended  faithfully  to  all  she  had  required 
of  her.  The  lesson  was  recited  without  the  smallest 
mistake,  every  figure  of  the  examples  worked  out  cor 
rectly,  and  the  page  of  the  copy-book  neatly  and  care 
fully  written. 

Miss  Day  had  been  in  a  very  captious  mood  all  day, 
and  seemed  really  provoked  that  Elsie  had  not  given 
her  the  smallest  excuse  for  fault-finding.  Handing  the 
book  back  to  her,  she  said,  very  coldly,  "I  see  you  can 
do  your  duties  well  enough  when  you  choose." 

Elsie  felt  keenly  the  injustice  of  the  remark,  and 
Jonged  to  say  that  she  had  tried  quite  as  earnestly  in 
the  morning;  but  she  resoluteley  crushed  down  the  in 
dignant  feeling,  and  calling  to  mind  the  rash  words 
that  had  cost  her  so  many  repentant  tears,  she  replied 
meekly,  "I  am  sorry  I  did  not  succeed  better  this 
morning,  Miss  Day,  though  I  did  really  try;  and  I  am 
still  more  sorry  for  the  saucy  answer  I  gave  you ;  an<* 
I  ask  your  pardon  for  it." 

"You  ought  to  be  sorry,"  replied  Miss  Day,  severelyr 
"and  I  hope  you  are;  for  it  was  a  very  impertinent' 
speech  indeed,  and  deserving  of  a  much  more  severe 
punishment  than  you  received.     Now  go,  and  never 
let  me  hear  anything  of  the  kind  from  you  again." 

Poor  little  Elsie's  eyes  filled  with  tears  at  these  un 
gracious  words,  accompanied  by  a  still  more  ungra- 


ELSIE  DINSMORE  23 

cious  manner ;  but  she  turned  away  without  a  word,  and 
placing  her  books  and  slate  carefully  in  her  desk,  left 
the  room. 

Rose  Allison  was  sitting  alone  in  her  room  that 
evening,  thinking  of  her  far-distant  home,  when  hear 
ing  a  gentle  rap  at  her  door,  she  rose  and  opened  it  to 
find  Elsie  standing  there  with  her  little  Bible  in  her 
hand. 

"Come  in,  darling,"  she  said,  stooping  to  give  the 
little  one  a  kiss ;  "I  am  very  glad  to  see  you." 

"I  may  stay  with  you  for  half  an  hour,  Miss  Alli 
son,  if  you  like,"  said  the  child,  seating  herself  on  the 
low  ottoman  pointed  out  by  Rose,  "and  then  mammy 
is  coming  to  put  me  to  bed." 

"It  will  be  a  very  pleasant  half-hour  to  both  of  us,  I 
hope,"  replied  Rose,  opening  her  Bible. 

They  read  a  chapter  together — Rose  now  and  then 
pausing  to  make  a  few  explanations — and  then  kneel 
ing  down,  she  offered  up  a  prayer  for  the  teachings  of 
the  Spirit,  and  for  God's  blessing  on  themselves  and  all 
their  dear  ones. 

"Dear  little  Elsie,"  she  said,  folding  the  child  in  her 
arms,  when  they  had  risen  from  their  knees,  "how  I 
love  you  already,  and  how  very  glad  I  am  to  find  that 
there  is  one  in  this  house  beside  myself  who  loves 
Jesus,  and  loves  to  study  His  word,  and  to  call  upon 
His  name." 

"Yes,  dear  Miss  Allison;  and  there  is  more  than 
one,  for  mammy  loves  Him,  too,  very  dearly,"  replied 
the  little  girl,  earnestly. 


*4  ELSIE   DINSMORE  " 

"Does  she,  darling?  Then  I  must  love  her,  too,  for 
I  cannot  help  loving  all  who  love  my  Saviour." 

Then  Rose  sat  down,  and  drawing  the  little  girl  to 
a  seat  on  her  knee,  they  talked  sweetly  together  of  the 
race  they  were  running,  and  the  prize  they  hoped  to 
obtain  at  the  end  of  it;  of  the  battle  they  were  righting, 
and  the  invisible  foes  with  whom  they  were  called 
to  struggle — the  armor  that  had  been  provided,  and 
of  Him  who  had  promised  to  be  the  Captain  of  their 
salvation,  and  to  bring  them  off  more  than  conquerors. 
They  were  pilgrims  in  the  same  straight  and  nar 
row  way,  and  it  was  very  pleasant  thus  to  walk  a  little 
while  together.  "Then  they  that  feared  the  Lord  spake 
often  one  to  another;  and  the  Lord  hearkened  and 
heard  it ;  and  a  book  of  remembrance  was  written  be 
fore  Him  for  them  that  feared  the  Lord,  and  that 
thought  upon  His  name.  And  they  shall  be  mine, 
saith  the  Lord  of  hosts,  in  that  day  when  I  make  up 
my  jewels ;  and  I  will  spare  them,  as  a  man  spareth  his 
own  son  that  serveth  him." 

"That  is  mammy  coming  for  me,"  said  Elsie,  as  a 
low  knock  was  heard  at  the  door. 

"Come  in,"  said  Rose,  and  the  door  opened,  and  a 
very  nice  colored  woman  of  middle  age,  looking  beau 
tifully  neat  in  her  snow-white  apron  and  turban,  en 
tered  with  a  low  courtesy,  asking,  "Is  my  little  missus 
ready  for  bed  now?" 

"Yes,"  said  Elsie,  jumping  off  Rose's  lap ;  "but 
come  here,  mammy;  I  want  to  introduce  you  to  Miss 
Allison." 

"How  do  you  do,  Aunt  Chloe?    I  am  very  glad  to 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  25 

know  you,  since  Elsie  tells  me  you  are  a  servant  of  the 
same  blessed  Master  whom  I  love  and  try  to  serve," 
said  Rose,  putting  her  small  white  hand  cordially  into 
Chloe's  dusky  one. 

"  'Deed  I  hope  I  is,  missus,"  replied  Chloe,  pressing 
it  fervently  in  both  of  hers.  "Fs  only  a  poor  old  black 
sinner,  but  de  good  Lord  Jesus,  He  loves  me  jes  de 
same  as  if  I  was  white,  an'  I  love  Him  an'  all  His 
chillen  with  all  my  heart." 

"Yes,  Aunt  Chloe,"  said  Rose,  "He  is  our  peace,  and 
hath  made  both  one,  and  hath  broken  down  the  middle 
wall  of  partition  between  us ;  so  that  we  are  no  more 
strangers  and  foreigners,  but  fellow-citizens  with  the 
saints  and  of  the  household  of  God;  and  are  built 
upon  the  foundation  of  the  apostles  and  prophets,  Jesus 
Christ  himself  being  the  chief  corner-stone." 

"Yes,  missus,  dat's  it  for  sure;  ole  Chloe  knows 
dat's  in  de  Bible;  an'  if  we  be  built  on  dat  bressed 
corner-stone,  we's  safe  ebery  one ;  Fse  heard  it  many's 
de  time,  an'  it  fills  dis  ole  heart  with  joy  an'  peace  in 
believing,"  she  exclaimed,  raising  her  tearful  eyes  and 
clasping  her  hands.  "But  good  night,  missus ;  I  must 
put  my  chile  to  bed,"  she  added,  taking  Elsie's  hand. 

"Good-night,  Aunt  Chloe;  come  in  again,"  said 
Rose.  "And  good-night  to  you,  too,  dear  little  Elsie," 
folding  the  little  girl  again  in  her  arms. 

"Ain't  dat  a  bressed  young  lady,  darlin' !"  exclaimed 
Chloe,  earnestly,  as  she  began  the  business  of  prepar 
ing  her  young  charge  for  bed. 

"O  mammy,  I  love  her  so  much!  she's  so  good  and 


26  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

kind,"  replied  the  child,  "and  she  loves  Jesus,  and 
loves  to  talk  about  Him." 

"She  reminds  me  of  your  dear  mamma,  Miss  Elsie, 
but  she's  not  so  handsome,"  replied  the  nurse,  with  a 
tear  in  her  eye ;  "ole  Chloe  tinks  dere's  nebber  any 
lady  so  beautiful  as  her  dear  young  missus  was." 

Elsie  drew  out  the  miniature  and  kissed  it,  murmur 
ing,  "Dear,  darling  mamma,"  then  put  it  back  in  her 
bosom  again,  for  she  always  wore  it  day  and  night. 
She  was  standing  in  her  white  night-dress,  the  tiny 
white  feet  just  peeping  from  under  it,  while  Chloe 
brushed  back  her  curls  and  put  on  her  night-cap. 

"Dere  now,  darlin',  you's  ready  for  bed,"  she  ex 
claimed,  giving  the  child  a  hug  and  a  kiss. 

"No,  mammy,  not  quite,"  replied  the  little  girl,  and 
gliding  away  to  the  side  of  the  bed,  she  knelt  down 
and  offered  up  her  evening  prayer.  Then,  coming 
back  to  the  toilet  table,  she  opened  her  little  Bible, 
saying,  "Now,  mammy,  I  will  read  you  a  chapter 
while  you  are  getting  ready  for  bed." 

The  room  was  large  and  airy,  and  Aunt  Chloe,  who 
was  never  willing  to  leave  her  nursling,  but  watched 
over  her  night  and  day  with  the  most  devoted  af 
fection,  slept  in  a  cot  bed  in  one  corner. 

"Tank  you,  my  dear  young  missus,  you's  berry 
good,"  she  said,  beginning  the  preparations  for  the 
night  by  taking  off  her  turban  and  replacing  it  by  a 
thick  night-cap. 

When  the  chapter  was  finished  Elsie  got  into  bed, 
saying,  "Now,  mammy,  you  may  put  out  the  light  as 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  27 

soon  as  you  please ;  and  be  sure  to  call  me  early  in  the 
morning,  for  I  have  a  lesson  to  learn  before  breakfast." 

'That  I  will,  darlin',"  replied  the  old  woman, 
spreading  the  cover  carefully  over  her.  "Good-night, 
my  pet,  your  ole  mammy  hopes  her  chile  will  have 
pleasant  dreams." 

Rose  Allison  was  an  early  riser,  and  as  the  break 
fast  hour  at  Roselands  was  eight  o'clock,  she  always 
had  an  hour  or  two  for  reading  before  it  was  time  to 
join  the  family  circle.  She  had  asked  Elsie  to  come 
to  her  at  half-past  seven,  and  punctually  at  the  hour 
the  little  girl's  gentle  rap  was  heard  at  her  door. 

"Come  in,"  said  Rose,  and  Elsie  entered,  looking  as 
bright  and  fresh  and  rosy  as  the  morning.  She  had 
her  little  Bible  under  her  arm,  and  a  bouquet  of  fresh 
flowers  in  her  hand.  "Good-morning,  dear  Miss  Alli 
son,"  she  said,  dropping  a  graceful  courtesy  as  she 
presented  it.  "*I  have  come  to  read,  and  I  have  just 
been  out  to  gather  these  for  you,  because  I  know 
you  love  flowers." 

"Thank  you,  darling,  they  are  very  lovely,"  said 
Rose,  accepting  the  gift  and  bestowing  a  caress  upon 
the  giver.  "You  are  quite  punctual,"  she  added,  "and 
now  we  can  have  our  half-hour  together  before  break 
fast." 

The  time  was  spent  profitably  and  pleasantly,  and 
passed  so  quickly  that  both  were  surprised  when  the 
breakfast  bell  rang. 

Miss  Allison  spent  the  whole  fall  and  winter  at 
Roselands ;  and  it  was  very  seldom  during  all  that  time 
•'-hat  she  and  Elsie  failed  to  have  their  morning  and 


28  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

evening  reading  and  prayer  together.  Rose  was  often 
made  to  wonder  at  the  depth  of  the  little  girl's  piety 
and  the  knowledge  of  divine  things  she  possessed.  But 
Elsie  had  had  the  best  of  teaching.  Chloe,  though  en 
tirely  uneducated,  was  a  simple-minded,  earnest  Chris 
tian,  and  with  a  heart  full  of  love  to  Jesus,  had,  as  we 
have  seen,  early  endeavored  to  lead  the  little  one  to 
Him,  and  Mrs.  Murray — the  housekeeper  whom  Ade 
laide  had  mentioned,  and  who  had  assisted  Chloe  in 
the  care  of  the  child  from  the  time  of  her  birth  until 
a  few  months  before  Rose's  coming,  when  she  had  sud 
denly  been  summoned  home  to  Scotland — had  proved 
a  very  faithful  friend.  She  was  an  intelligent  woman 
and  devotedly  pious,  and  had  carefully  instructed  this 
lonely  little  one,  for  whom  she  felt  almost  a  parent's 
affection,  and  her  efforts  to  bring  her  to  a  saving 
knowledge  of  Christ  had  been  signally  owned  and 
blessed  of  God ;  and  in  answer  to  her  earnest  prayers, 
the  Holy  Spirit  had  vouchsafed  His  teachings,  with 
out  which  all  human  instruction  must  ever  be  in  vain. 
And  young  as  Elsie  was,  she  had  already  a  very  lovely 
and  well-developed  Christian  character.  Though  not 
a  remarkably  precocious  child  in  other  respects,  she 
seemed  to  have  very  clear  and  correct  views  on  al 
most  every  subject  connected  with  her  duty  to  God  and 
her  neighbor;  was  very  truthful  both  in  word  and 
deed,  very  strict  in  her  observance  of  the  Sabbath — 
though  the  rest  of  the  family  were  by  no  means  par 
ticular  in  that  respect — very  diligent  in  her  studies, 
respectful  to  superiors,  and  kind  to  inferiors  and 
eauals;  and  she  was  gentle,  sweet-tempered,  patient, 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  29 

and  forgiving  to  a  remarkable  degree.  Rose  became 
strongly  attached  to  her,  and  the  little  girl  fully  re 
turned  her  affection. 

Elsie  was  very  sensitive  and  affectionate,  and  felt 
keenly  the  want  of  sympathy  and  love,  for  which,  at 
the  time  of  Rose's  coming,  she  had  no  one  to  look  to 
but  poor  old  Chloe,  who  loved  her  with  all  her  heart. 

It  is  true,  Adelaide  sometimes  treated  her  almost  af 
fectionately,  and  Lora,  who  had  a  very  strong  sense  of 
justice,  occasionally  interfered  and  took  her  part  when 
she  was  very  unjustly  accused,  but  no  one  seemed 
really  to  care  for  her,  and  she  often  felt  sad  and  lonely. 
Mr.  Dinsmore,  though  her  own  grandfather,  treated 
her  with  entire  neglect,  seemed  to  have  not  the  slight 
est  affection  for  her,  and  usually  spoke  of  her  as  "old 
Crayson's  grandchild."  Mrs.  Dinsmore  really  dis 
liked  her,  because  she  looked  upon  her  as  the  child  of 
a  stepson  for  whom  she  had  never  felt  any  affection, 
and  also  as  the  future  rival  of  her  own  children; 
while  the  governess  and  the  younger  members  of  the 
family,  following  the  example  of  their  elders,  treated 
her  with  neglect,  and  occasionally  even  with  abuse. 
Miss  Day,  knowing  that  she  was  in  no  danger  of 
incurring  the  displeasure  of  her  superiors  by  so  do 
ing,  vented  upon  her  all  the  spite  she  dared  not  show 
to  her  other  pupils;  and  continually  she  was  made  to 
give  up  her  toys  and  pleasures  to  Enna,  and  even 
sometimes  to  Arthur  and  Walter.  It  often  cost  her 
a  struggle,  and  had  she  possessed  less  of  the  orna 
ment  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,  her  life  had  been 
wretched  indeed. 


£0  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

But  in  spite  of  all  her  trials  and  vexations,  little 
Elsie  was  the  happiest  person  in  the  family;  for  she 
had  in  her  heart  that  peace  which  the  world  can  neither 
give  nor  take  away;  that  joy  which  the  Saviour  gives 
to  His  own,  and  no  man  taketh  from  them.  She  con 
stantly  carried  all  her  sorrows  and  troubles  to  Him,  and 
the  coldness  and  neglect  of  others  seemed  but  to  drive 
her  nearer  to  that  Heavenly  Friend,  until  she  felt  that 
while  possessed  of  His  love,  she  could  not  be  unhappy, 
though  treated  with  scorn  and  abuse  by  all  the  world. 

"The  good  are  better  made  by  ill, 
As  odors  crushed  are  sweeter  still ;" 

And  even  so  it  seemed  to  be  with  little  Elsie;  her 
trials  seemed  to  have  only  the  effect  of  purifying  and 
making  more  lovely  her  naturally  amiable  character. 

Elsie  talked  much  and  thought  more  of  her  absent 
and  unknown  father,  and  longed  with  an  intensity  of 
desire  for  his  return  home.  It  was  her  dream,  by  day 
and  by  night,  that  he  had  come,  that  he  had  taken 
her  to  his  heart,  calling  her  "his  own  darling  child, 
his  precious  little  Elsie ;"  for  such  were  the  loving  epi 
thets  she  often  heard  lavished  upon  Enna,  and  which 
she  longed  to  hear  addressed  to  herself.  But  from 
month  to  month,  and  year  to  year,  that  longed-for 
return  had  been  delayed  until  the  little  heart  had  grown 
sick  with  hope  deferred,  and  was  often  weary  with  its 
almost  hopeless  waiting.  But  to  return. 

"Elsie,"  said  Adelaide,  as  Miss  Allison  and  the  lit 
tle  girl  entered  the  breakfast-room  on  the  morning 
after  Elsie's  disappointment,  "the  fair  is  not  over 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  31 

and  Miss  Allison  and  I  are  going  to  ride  out  there 
this  afternoon ;  so,  if  you  are  a  good  girl  in  school,  you 
may  go  with  us." 

"Oh!  thank  you,  dear  Aunt  Adelaide/'  exclaimed 
the  little  girl,  clapping  her  hands  with  delight;  "how 
kind  you  are !  and  I  shall  be  so  glad." 

Miss  Day  frowned,  and  looked  as  if  she  wanted  to 
reprove  her  for  her  noisy  demonstrations  of  delight, 
but,  standing  somewhat  in  awe  of  Adelaide,  said 
nothing. 

But  Elsie  suddenly  relapsed  into  silence,  for  at  that 
moment  Mrs.  Dinsmore  entered  the  room,  and  it  was 
seldom  that  she  could  utter  a  word  in  her  presence 
without  being  reproved  and  told  that  "children  should 
be  seen  and  not  heard,"  though  her  own  were  al 
lowed  to  talk  as  much  as  they  pleased. 

Miss  Day  seemed  cross,  Mrs.  Dinsmore  was  moody 
and  taciturn,  complaining  of  headache,  and  Mr.  Dins- 
more  occupied  with  the  morning  paper;  and  so  the 
meal  passed  off  in  almost  unbroken  silence.  Elsie 
was  glad  when  it  was  over,  and  hastening  to  the 
school-room,  she  began  her  tasks  without  waiting  for 
the  arrival  of  the  regular  hour  for  study. 

She  had  the  room  entirely  to  herself,  and  had  been 
busily  engaged  for  half  an  hour  in  working  out  her 
examples,  when  the  opening  of  the  door  caused  her 
to  look  up,  and,  to  her  dismay,  Arthur  entered.  He 
did  not,  however,  as  she  feared,  begin  his  customary 
course  of  teasing  and  tormenting,  but  seated  himself 
at  his  desk,  leaning  his  head  upon  his  hand  in  an  at 
titude  of  dejection. 


32  ELSIE  DINSMORE 

Elsie  wondered  what  ailed  him,  his  conduct  was  so 
unusual,  and  she  could  not  help  every  now  and  then 
sending  an  inquiring  glance  toward  him,  and  at  length 
she  asked,  "What  is  the  matter,  Arthur  ?* 

"Nothing  much,"  said  he,  gruffly,  turning  his  back 
to  her. 

Thus  repulsed,  she  said  no  more,  but  gave  her  un 
divided  attention  to  her  employment;  and  so  diligent 
was  she,  that  Miss  Day  had  no  excuse  whatever  for 
fault-finding  this  morning.  Her  tasks  were  all  com 
pleted  within  the  required  time,  and  she  enjoyed  her 
promised  ride  with  her  aunt  and  Miss  Allison,  and 
her  visit  to  the  fair,  very  much  indeed. 

It  was  still  early  when  they  returned;  and  finding 
that  she  had  nearly  an  hour  to  dispose  of  before  tea- 
time,  Elsie  thought  she  would  finish  a  drawing  which 
she  had  left  in  her  desk  in  the  school-room.  While 
searching  for  it  and  her  pencil,  she  heard  Lora's  and 
Arthur's  voices  on  the  veranda. 

She  did  not  notice  what  they  were  saying,  until  her 
own  name  struck  her  ear. 

"Elsie  is  the  only  person,"  Lora  was  saying,  "who 
can,  and  probably  will,  help  you;  for  she  has  plenty 
of  money,  and  she  is  so  kind  and  generous;  but,  if  I 
were  you,  I  should  be  ashamed  to  ask  her,  after  the 
Way  you  acted  toward  her." 

"I  wish  I  hadn't  teased  her  so  yesterday/'  replied 
Arthur,  disconsolately,  "but  it's  such  fun,  I  can't  help 
it  sometimes." 

"Well,  I  know  I  wouldn't  ask  a  favor  of  anybody  I 
had  treated  so,"  said  Lora,  walking  away. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  33 

Elsie  sat  still  a  few  moments,  working  at  her  draw* 
ing  and  wondering  all  the  time  what  it  was  Arthur 
wanted,  and  thinking  how  glad  she  would  be  of  an 
opportunity  of  returning  him  good  for  evil.  She  did 
not  like,  though,  to  seek  his  confidence,  but  pres 
ently  hearing  him  heave  a  deep  sigh,  she  rose  and 
went  out  on  the  veranda. 

He  was  leaning  on  the  railing  in  an  attitude  of  de 
jection,  his  head  bent  down  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
floor.  She  went  up  to  him,  and  laying  her  hand  softly 
on  his  shoulder,  said,  in  the  sweet,  gentle  tones  natural 
to  her.  "What  ails  you,  Arthur?  Can  I  do  anything 
for  you?  I  will  be  very  glad  if  I  can." 

"No— yes— "  he  answered  hesitatingly ;  "I  wouldn't 
like  to  ask  you  after — after " 

"Oh !  never  mind,"  said  Elsie,  quickly ;  "I  do  not  care 
anything  about  that  now.  I  had  the  ride  to-day,  and 
that  was  better  still,  because  I  went  with  Aunt  Ade 
laide  and  Miss  Allison.  Tell  me  what  you  want." 

Thus  encouraged,  Arthur  replied,  "I  saw  a  beautiful 
little  ship  yesterday  when  I  was  in  the  city;  it  was 
only  five  dollars,  and  I've  set  rny  heart  on  having  it,  but 
my  pocket  money's  all  gone,  and  papa  won't  give  me  a 
cent  until  next  month's  allowance  is  due ;  and  by  that 
time  the  ship  will  be  gone,  for  it's  such  a  beauty  some- 
body'll  be  sure  to  buy  it." 

"Won't  your  mamma  buy  it  for  you?"  asked  Elsie. 

"No,  she  says  she  hasn't  the  money  to  spare  just 
now.  You  know  it's  near  the  end  of  the  month,  and 
they've  all  spent  their  allowances  except  Louise,  and 


34  ELSIE  DINSMORE 

she  says  she'll  not  lend  her  money  to  such  a  spend 
thrift  as  I  am." 

Elsie  drew  out  her  purse,  and  seemed  just  about  to 
put  it  into  his  hand;  but,  apparently  changing  her 
mind,  she  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  returning  it 
to  her  pocket,  said,  with  a  half  smile,  "I  don't  know, 
Arthur;  five  dollars  is  a  good  deal  for  a  little  girl  like 
me  to  lay  out  at  once.  I  must  think  about  it  a  little." 

"I  don't  ask  you  to  give  it,"  he  replied  scornfully; 
"I'll  pay  it  back  in  two  weeks." 

"Well,  I  will  see  by  to-morrow  morning,"  she  said, 
darting  away,  while  he  sent  an  angry  glance  after  her, 
muttering  the  word  "stingy"  between  his  teeth. 

Elsie  ran  down  to  the  kitchen,  asking  of  one  and  an 
other  of  the  servants  as  she  passed,  "Where's  Pom- 
pey?"  The  last  time  she  put  the  question  to  Phoebe, 
the  cook,  but  was  answered  by  Pompey  himself.  "Here 
am  Pomp,  Miss  Elsie;  what  does  little  missy  want 
wid  dis  chile?" 

"Are   you   going   to   the   city   to-night,   Pompey?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Elsie,  I'se  got  some  arrants  to  do  for 
missus  an'  de  family  in  ginral,  an'  I  ben  gwine  start 
in  'bout  ten  minutes.  Little  missy  wants  sumpin',  eh  ?" 

Elsie  motioned  to  him  to  come  close  to  her,  and  then 
putting  her  purse  into  his  hands,  she  told  him  in  a 
whisper  of  Arthur's  wish,  and  directed  him  to  pur 
chase  the  coveted  toy,  and  bring  it  to  her,  if  possible, 
without  letting  any  one  else  know  anything  about  it. 
"And  keep  half  a  dollar  for  yourself,  Pompey,  to  pay 
you  for  your  trouble,"  she  added  in  conclusion. 

"Tank  you,  little  missy,"  he  replied,  with  a  broad 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  35 

grin  of  satisfaction ;  "dat  be  berry  good  pay,  and  Pomp 
am  de  man  to  do  dis  business  up  for  you  'bout  right." 

The  tea-bell  rang,  and  Elsie  hastened  away  to  an 
swer  the  summons.  She  looked  across  the  table  at  Ar 
thur  with  a  pleasant  smile  on  her  countenance,  but  he 
averted  his  eyes  with  an  angry  scowl ;  and  with  a  slight 
sigh  she  turned  away  her  head,  and  did  not  look  at 
him  again  during  the  meal. 

Pompey  executed  his  commission  faithfully;  and 
when  Elsie  returned  to  her  own  room  after  her  even 
ing  hour  with  Miss  Rose,  Chloe  pointed  out  the  little 
ship  standing  on  the  mantel. 

"Oh!  it's  a  little  beauty,"  cried  Elsie,  clapping  her 
hands  and  dancing  up  and  down  with  delight;  "how 
Arthur  will  be  pleased !  Now,  mammy,  can  you  take 
it  to  the  school-room,  and  put  it  on  Master  Arthur's 
desk,  without  anybody  seeing  you?" 

"Ole  Chloe'll  try,  darlm'/'  she  said,  taking  it  in  her 
hands. 

"Oh!  wait  one  moment,"  exclaimed  Elsie,  and  tak 
ing  a  card,  she  wrote  on  it,  "A  present  to  Arthur,  from 
his  niece  Elsie."  Then  laying  it  on  the  deck  of  the 
little  vessel.  "There,  mammy,"  she  said,  "I  think  that 
will  do ;  but  please  look  out  first  to  see  whether  any  one 
is  in  the  hall." 

"Coast  all  clear,  darlin',"  replied  Chloe,  after  a  care 
ful  survey;  "all  de  chillens  am  in  bed  before  dis  time, 
I  spec."  And  taking  a  candle  in  one  hand  and  the  lit 
tle  ship  in  the  other,  she  started  for  the  school-room 
soon  returned  with  a  broad  grin  of  satisfaction 


36  ELSIE  DINSMORE 

on  her  black  face,  saying,  "All  right,  darlin',  I  put  him 
on  Massa  Arthur's  desk,  an'  nobody  de  wiser." 

So  Elsie  went  to  bed  very  happy  in  the  thought  of 
the  pleasure  Arthur  would  have  in  receiving  her  pres 
ent. 

She  was  hurrying  down  to  the  breakfast-room  the 
next  morning,  a  little  in  advance  of  Miss  Rose,  who 
had  stopped  to  speak  to  Adelaide,  when  Arthur  came 
running  up  behind  her,  having  just  come  in  by  a  side 
door  from  the  garden,  and  seizing  her  round  the  waist, 
he  said,  "Thank  you,  Elsie;  you're  a  real  good  girl! 
She  sails  beautifully.  I've  been  trying  her  on  the 
pond.  But  it  mustn't  be  a  present;  you  must  let  me 
pay  you  back  when  I  get  my  allowance." 

"Oh!  no,  Arthur,  that  would  spoil  it  all,"  she  an 
swered  quickly;  "you  are  entirely  welcome,  and  you 
know  my  allowance  is  so  large  that  half  the  time  I 
have  more  money  than  I  know  how  to  spend." 

"I  should  like  to  see  the  time  that  would  b&  the 
case  with  me,"  said  he,  laughing.  Then  in  a  lower 
tone,  "Elsie,  I'm  sorry  I  teased  you  so.  I'll  not  do  it 
again  soon." 

Elsie  answered  him  with  a  grateful  look,  as  she 
stepped  past  him  and  quietly  took  her  place  at  the 
table. 

Arthur  kept  his  word,  and  for  many  weeks  entirely 
refrained  from  teasing  Elsie,  and  while  freed  from 
that  annoyance  she  was  always  able  to  have  her  tasks 
thoroughly  prepared;  and  though  her  governess  was 
often  unreasonable  and  exacting,  and  there  was 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  37 

scarcely  a  day  in  which  she  was  not  called  upon  to 
yield  her  own  wishes  or  pleasures,  or  in  some  way  to 
inconvenience  herself  to  please  Walter  or  Enna,  or  oc 
casionally  the  older  members  of  the  family,  yet  it  was 
an  unusually  happy  winter  to  her,  for  Rose  Allison's 
love  and  uniform  kindness  shed  sunshine  on  her  path. 
She  had  learned  to  yield  readily  to  others,  and  when 
fretted  or  saddened  by  unjust  or  unkind  treatment,  a 
few  moments  alone  with  her  precious  Bible  and  her 
loved  Saviour  made  all  right  again,  and  she  would 
come  from  those  sweet  communings  looking  as  se 
renely  happy  as  if  she  had  never  known  an  annoy 
ance.  She  was  a  wonder  to  all  the  family.  Her  grand 
father  would  sometimes  look  at  her  as,  without  a 
frown  or  a  pout,  she  would  give  up  her  own  wishes  to 
Enna,  and  shaking  his  head,  say,  "She's  no  Dins- 
more,  or  she  would  know  how  to  stand  up  for  her  own 
rights  better  than  that.  /  don't  like  such  tame-spir 
ited  people.  She's  not  Horace's  child;  it  never  was 
an  easy  matter  to  impose  upon  or  conquer  him.  He 
was  a  boy  of  spirit." 

"What  a  strange  child  Elsie  is  ?"  Adelaide  remarked 
to  her  friend  one  day.  "I  am  often  surprised  to  see 
how  sweetly  she  gives  up  to  all  of  us;  really  she 
has  a  lovely  temper.  I  quite  envy  her;  it  was  al 
ways  hard  for  me  to  give  up  my  own  way." 

"I  do  not  believe  it  was  easy  for  her  at  first,"  said 
Rose.  "I  think  her  sweet  disposition  is  the  fruit  of 
a  work  of  grace  in  her  heart.  It  is  the  ornament  of  a 
meek  and  quiet  spirit,  which  God  alone  can  bestow." 

"I  wish  I  had  it,  then,"  said  Adelaide,  sighing. 


38  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"You  have  only  to  go  to  the  right  source  to  obtain 
it,  dear  Adelaide,"  replied  her  friend,  gently. 

"And  yet,"  said  Adelaide,  "I  must  say  I  sometimes 
think  that,  as  papa  says,  there  is  something  mean- 
spirited  and  cowardly  in  always  giving  up  to  other 
people." 

"It  would  indeed  be  cowardly  and  wrong  to  give 
up  principle"  replied  Rose,  "but  surely  it  is  noble  and 
generous  to  give  up  our  own  wishes  to  another,  where 
no  principle  is  involved." 

"Certainly,  you  are  right,"  said  Adelaide,  musingly. 
"And  now  I  recollect  that,  readily  as  Elsie  gives  up  her 
own  wishes  to  others  on  ordinary  occasions,  I  have 
never  known  her  to  sacrifice  principle ;  but,  on  the  con 
trary,  she  has  several  times  made  mamma  excessively 
angry  by  refusing  to  romp  and  play  with  Enna  on  the 
Sabbath,  or  to  deceive  papa  when  questioned  with  re 
gard  to  some  of  Arthur's  misdeeds ;  yet  she  has  often 
borne  the  blame  of  his  faults,  when  she  might  have 
escaped  by  telling  of  him.  Elsie  is  certainly  very  dif 
ferent  from  any  of  the  rest  of  us,  and  if  it  is  piety 
that  makes  her  what  she  is,  I  think  piety  is  a  very 
lovely  thing." 

Elsie's  mornings  were  spent  in  the  school-room;  in 
the  afternoon  she  walked,  or  rode  out,  sometimes  in 
company  with  her  young  uncles  and  aunts,  and  some 
times  alone,  a  negro  boy  following  at  a  respectful  dis 
tance,  as  a  protector.  In  the  evening  there  was  al 
most  always  company  in  the  parlor,  and  she  found  it 
pleasanter  to  sit  beside  the  bright  wood-fire  in  her  own 
room,  with  her  fond  old  nurse  for  a  companion,  than 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  39 

to  stay  there,  or  with  the  younger  ones  in  the  sitting- 
room  or  nursery.  If  she  had  no  lesson  to  learn,  she 
usually  read  aloud  to  Chloe,  as  she  sat  knitting  by  the 
fire,  and  the  Bible  was  the  book  generally  preferred 
by  both ;  and  then  when  she  grew  weary  of  reading,  she 
would  often  take  a  stool,  and  sitting  down  close  to 
Chloe,  put  her  head  in  her  lap,  saying,  "Now,  mammy, 
tell  me  about  mamma." 

And  then  for  the  hundredth  time  or  more  the  old 
woman  would  go  over  the  story  of  the  life  and  death 
of  her  "dear  young  missus,"  as  she  always  called  her ; 
telling  of  her  beauty,  her  goodness,  and  of  her  sor 
rows  and  sufferings  during  the  last  year  of  her  short 
life. 

It  was  a  story  which  never  lost  its  charm  for  Elsie  ; 
a  story  which  the  one  never  wearied  of  telling,  nor  the 
other  of  hearing.  Elsie  would  sit  listening,  with  her 
mother's  miniature  in  her  hand,  gazing  at  it  with  tear 
ful  eyes,  then  press  it  to  her  lips,  murmuring,  "My 
own  mamma;  poor,  dear  mamma."  And  when  Chloe 
had  finished  that  story  she  would  usually  say,  "Now, 
mammy,  tell  me  all  about  papa." 

But  upon  this  subject  Chloe  had  very  little  informa 
tion  to  give.  She  knew  him  only  as  a  gay,  handsome 
young  stranger,  whom, she  had  seen  occasionally  dur 
ing  a  few  months,  and  who  had  stolen  all  the  sunshine 
from  her  beloved  young  mistress'  life,  and  left  her  to 
die  alone ;  yet  she  did  not  blame  him  when  speaking  to 
his  child,  for  the  young  wife  had  told  her  that  he  had 
not  forsaken  her  of  his  own  free  choice;  and  though 
she  could  not  quite  banish  from  her  own  mind  the 


40  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

idea  that  he  had  not  been  altogether  innocent  in  the 
matter,  she  breathed  no  hint  of  it  to  Elsie ;  for  Chloe 
was  a  sensible  woman,  and  knew  that  to  lead  the  little 
one  to  think  ill  of  her  only  remaining  parent  would 
but  tend  to  make  her  unhappy. 

Sometimes  Elsie  would  ask  very  earnestly,  "Do  you 
thing  papa  loves  Jesus,  mammy?"  And  Chloe  would 
reply  with  a  doubtful  shake  of  the  head,  "Dunno,  dar- 
lin' ;  but  ole  Chloe  prays  for  him  ebery  day." 

"And  so  do  I,"  Elsie  would  answer;  "dear,  dear 
papa,  how  I  wish  he  would  come  home !" 

And  so  the  winter  glided  away,  and  spring  came,  and 
Miss  Allison  must  soon  return  home.  It  was  now  the 
last  day  of  March,  and  her  departure  had  been  fixed 
for  the  second  of  April.  For  a  number  of  weeks  Elsie 
had  been  engaged,  during  all  her  spare  moments,  in 
knitting  a  purse  for  Rose,  wishing  to  give  her  some 
thing  which  was  the  work  of  her  own  hands,  knowing 
that  as  such  it  would  be  more  prized  by  her  friend  than 
a  costlier  gift.  She  had  just  returned  from  her  after 
noon  ride,  and  taking  out  her  work  she  sat  down  to 
finish  it.  She  was  in  her  own  room,  with  no  com 
panion  but  Chloe,  who  sat  beside  her  knitting  as  usual. 

Elsie  worked  on  silently  for  some  time,  then  sud 
denly  holding  up  her  purse,  she  exclaimed,  "See, 
mammy,  it  is  all  done  but  putting  on  the  tassel !  Isn't 
it  pretty?  and  won't  dear  Miss  Allison  be  pleased  with 
it?" 

It  really  was  very  pretty  indeed,  of  crimson  and 
gold,  and  beautifully  knit,  and  Chloe,  looking  at  it 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  41 

with  admiring  eyes,  said,  "I  spec  she  will,  darlin'. 
I  tink  it's  berry  handsome." 

At  this  moment  Enna  opened  the  door  and  came  in. 

Elsie  hastily  attempted  to  conceal  the  purse  by 
thrusting  it  into  her  pocket,  but  it  was  too  late,  for 
Enna  had  seen  it,  and  running  toward  her,  cried  out, 
"Now,  Elsie,  just  give  that  to  me!" 

"No,  Enna,"  replied  Elsie,  mildly,  "I  cannot  let  you 
have  it,  because  it  is  for  Miss  Rose." 

"I  will  have  it,"  exclaimed  the  child,  resolutely,  "and 
if  you  don't  give  it  to  me  at  once  I  shall  just  go  and 
tell  mamma." 

"I  will  let  you  take  it  in  your  hand  a  few  moments 
to  look  at  it,  if  you  will  be  careful  not  to  soil  it,  Enna/1 
said  Elsie,  in  the  same  gentle  tone;  "and  if  you  wish, 
I  will  get  some  more  silk  and  beads,  and  make  you  one 
just  like  it ;  but  I  cannot  give  you  this,  because  I  would 
not  have  time  to  make  another  for  Miss  Rose." 

"No,  I  shall  just  have  that  one;  and  I  shall  have  it 
to  keep,"  said  Enna,  attempting  to  snatch  it  out  of  El 
sie's  hand. 

But  Elsie  held  it  up  out  of  her  reach,  and  after  try 
ing  several  times  in  vain  to  get  it,  Enna  left  the  room, 
crying  and  screaming  with  passion. 

Chloe  locked  the  door,  saying,  "Great  pity,  darlin', 
we  forgot  to  do  dat  'fore  Miss  Enna  came.  I'se  'fraid 
she  gwine  bring  missus  for  make  you  gib  um  up." 

Elsie  sat  down  to  her  work  again,  but  she  was  very 
pale,  and  her  little  hands  trembled  with  agitation,  and 
her  soft  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

Chloe's  fears  were  but  too  well  founded;  for  the 


42  ELSIE    DINSMORE 

next  moment  hasty  steps  were  heard  in  the  passage, 
and  the  handle  of  the  door  was  laid  hold  of  with  no 
very  gentle  grasp ;  and  then,  as  it  refused  to  yield  to 
her  touch,  Mrs.  Dinsmore's  voice  was  heard  in  an 
angry  tone  giving  the  command,  "Open  this  door  in 
stantly." 

Chloe  looked  at  her  young  mistress. 

"You  will  have  to,"  said  Elsie,  tearfully,  slipping  her 
work  into  her  pocket  again,  and  lifting  up  her  heart  in 
prayer  for  patience  and  meekness,  for  she  well  knew 
she  would  have  need  of  both. 

Mrs.  Dinsmore  entered,  leading  the  sobbing  Enna  by 
the  hand;  her  face  was  flushed  with  passion,  and  ad 
dressing  Elsie  in  tones  of  violent  anger,  she  asked, 
"What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this,  you  good-for-noth 
ing  hussy  ?  Why  are  you  always  tormenting  this  poor 
child?  Where  is  that  paltry  trifle  that  all  this  fuss  is 
about?  let  me  see  it  this  instant." 

Elsie  drew  the  purse  from  her  pocket,  saying  in 
tearful,  trembling  tones,  "It  is  a  purse  I  was  making 
for  Miss  Rose,  ma'am ;  and  I  offered  to  make  another 
just  like  it  for  Enna;  but  I  cannot  give  her  this  one, 
because  there  would  not  be  time  to  make  another  be 
fore  Miss  Rose  goes  away." 

"You  can  not  give  it  to  her,  indeed!  You  will  not, 
you  mean;  but  I  say  you  shall;  and  I'll  see  if  I'm  not 
mistress  in  my  own  house.  Give  it  to  the  child  this 
instant;  I'll  not  have  her  crying  her  eyes  out  that  you 
may  be  humored  in  all  your  whims.  There  are  plenty 
of  handsomer  ones  to  be  had  in  the  city,  and  if  you  are 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  43 

too  mean  to  make  her  a  present  of  it,  I'll  buy  you  an 
other  to-morrow." 

"But  that  would  not  be  my  work,  and  this  is,*5  re 
plied  Elsie,  still  retaining  the  purse,  loath  to  let  it  go. 

"Nonsense!  what  difference  will  that  make  to  Miss 
Rose  ?"  said  Mrs.  Dinsmore ;  and  snatching  it  out  of 
her  hand,  she  gave  it  to  Enna,  saying,  "There,  my  pet, 
you  shall  have  it.  Elsie  is  a  naughty,  mean,  stingy 
girl,  but  she  shan't  plague  you  while  your  mamma's 
about." 

Enna  cast  a  look  of  triumph  at  Elsie,  and  ran  off 
with  her  prize,  followed  by  her  mother,  while  poor 
Elsie  hid  her  face  in  Chloe's  lap.  and  cried  bitterly. 

It  required  all  Chloe's  religion  to  keep  down  her  an 
ger  and  indignation  at  this  unjust  and  cruel  treatment 
of  her  darling,  and  for  a  few  moments  she  allowed 
her  to  sob  and  cry  without  a  word,  only  soothing  her 
with  mute  caresses,  not  daring  to  trust  her  voice,  lest 
her  anger  should  find  vent  in  words.  But  at  length, 
when  her  feelings  had  grown  somewhat  calmer,  she 
said  soothingly,  "Nebber  mind  it,  my  poor  darlin' 
chile.  Just  go  to  de  city  and  buy  de  prettiest  purse  you 
can  find,  for  Miss  Rose." 

But  Elsie  shook  her  head  sadly.  "I  wanted  it  to  be 
my  own  work,"  she  sobbed,  "and  now  there  is  no 
time." 

"Oh!  I'll  tell  you  what,  my  pet,"  exclaimed  Chloe 
suddenly,  "dere's  de  purse  you  was  aknittin'  for  your 
papa,  an'  dey  wouldn't  send  it  for  you;  you  can  get 
dat  done  for  de  lady,  and  knit  another  for  your  papa, 
'fore  he  comes  home." 


44  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

Elsie  raised  her  head  with  a  look  of  relief,  but  her 
face  clouded  again,  as  she  replied,  "But  it  is  not  quite 
done,  and  I  haven't  the  beads  to  finish  it  with,  and  Miss 
Rose  goes  day  after  to-morrow." 

"Nebber  mind  dat,  darlin',"  said  Chloe,  jumping  up ; 
"Pomp  he  been  gwine  to  de  city  dis  berry  afternoon, 
an*  we'll  tell  him  to  buy  de  beads,  an'  den  you  can  get 
de  purse  finished  'fore  to-morrow  night,  an'  de  lady 
don't  go  till  de  next  day,  an'  so  it  gwine  all  come 
right  yet." 

"Oh !  yes,  that  will  do ;  dear  old  mammy,  I'm  so  glad 
you  thought  of  it,"  said  Elsie,  joyfully.  And  rising, 
she  went  to  her  bureau,  and  unloosing  a  drawer,  took 
from  it  a  bead  purse  of  blue  and  gold,  quite  as  hand 
some  as  the  one  of  which  she  had  been  so  ruthlessly 
despoiled,  and  rolling  it  up  in  a  piece  of  paper,  she 
handed  it  to  Chloe,  saying:  "There,  mammy,  please 
give  it  to  Pomp,  and  tell  him  to  match  the  beads  and 
the  silk  exactly." 

Chloe  hastened  in  search  of  Pomp,  but  when  she 
found  him,  he  insisted  that  he  should  not  have  time  to 
attend  to  Miss  Elsie's  commission  and  do  his  other  er 
rands  ;  and  Chloe,  knowing  that  he,  in  common  with  all, 
the  other  servants,  was  very  fond  of  the  little  girl,  felt 
satisfied  that  it  was  not  merely  an  excuse,  therefore 
did  not  urge  her  request.  She  stood  a  moment  in  great 
perplexity,  then  suddenly  exclaimed,  "I'll  go  myself. 
Miss  Elsie  will  spare  me,  an'  I'll  go  right  long  wid  you, 
Pomp." 

Chloe  was  entirely  Elsie's  servant,  having  no  other 
business  than  to  wait  upon  her  and  take  care  of  her 


ELSIE    DINSMORE  45 

clothing  and  her  room;  and  the  little  girl,  of  course, 
readily  gave  her  permission  to  accompany  Pomp  and 
do  the  errand. 

But  it  was  quite  late  ere  Chloe  returned,  and  the  lit 
tle  girl  spent  the  evening  alone  in  her  own  room.  She 
was  sadly  disappointed  that  she  could  not  even  have 
her  hour  with  Miss  Rose,  who  was  detained  in  the 
parlor  with  company  whom  she  could  not  leave,  and  so 
the  evening  seemed  very  long  and  wore  away  very 
slowly. 

But  at  last  Chloe  came,  and  in  answer  to  her  eager 
inquiries  displayed  her  purchases  with  great  satisfac 
tion,  saying,  "Yes,  darlin',  I'se  got  de  berry  t'ings  you 
wanted." 

"Oh!  yes,"  said  Elsie,  examining  them  with  de 
light;  "they  are  just  right;  and  now  I  can  finish  it  in 
a  couple  of  hours." 

"Time  to  get  ready  for  bed  now,  ain't  it,  pet?" 
asked  Chloe;  but  before  the  little  girl  had  time  to  an 
swer,  a  servant  knocked  at  the  door,  and  handed  in  a 
note  for  her.  It  was  from  Miss  Allison,  and,  hastily 
tearing  it  open,  she  read: 

"DEAR  ELSIE — I  arn  very  sorry  that  we  cannot  have 
our  reading  together  this  evening ;  but  be  sure,  darling, 
to  come  to  me  early  in  the  morning;  it  will  be  our  last 
opportunity,  for,  dear  child,  I  have  another  disap 
pointment  for  you.  I  had  not  expected  to  leave  before 
day  after  to-morrow,  but  I  have  learned  this  evening 
that  the  vessel  sails  a  day  sooner  than  I  had  supposed. 


46  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

and  therefore  I  shall  be  obliged  to  start  on  my  jour 
ney  to-morrow. 

"Your  friend,  ROSE/' 

Elsie  dropped  the  note  on  the  floor  and  burst  into 
teai  s. 

"What  de  matter,  darlin'  ?"  asked  Chloe,  anxiously. 

"Oh !  Miss  Rose,  dear,  dear  Miss  Rose  is  going  to 
morrow,"  she  sobbed.  Then  hastily  drying  her  eyes, 
she  said:  "But  I  have  no  time  for  crying.  I  must  sit 
up  and  finish  the  purse  to-night,  because  there  will 
not  be  time  to-morrow." 

It  was  long  past  her  usual  hour  for  retiring  when 
at  last  her  task,  or  rather  her  labor  of  love,  was  com 
pleted.  Yet  she  was  up  betimes,  and  at  the  usual 
hour  her  gentle  rap  was  heard  at  Miss  Allison's  dooru 

Rose  clasped  her  in  her  arms  and  kissed  her  tenderly, 

"O  Miss  Rose!  dear,  dear  Miss  Rose,  what  shall  I 
do  without  you?"  sobbed  the  little  girl.  "I  shall  have 
nobody  to  love  me  now  but  mammy." 

"You  have  another  and  a  better  friend,  dear  Elsie., 
who  has  said,  'I  will  never  leave  thee,  nor  forsake 
thee/  "  whispered  Rose,  with  another  tender  caress. 

"Yes,"  said  Elsie,  wiping  away  her  tears;  "and  He 
is  your  Friend,  too;  and  don't  you  think,  Miss  Rose 
He  will  bring  us  together  again  some  day?" 

"I  hope  so  indeed,  darling.  We  must  keep  very  close 
to  Him,  dear  Elsie ;  we  must  often  commune  with  Him 
in  secret;  often  study  His  word,  and  try  always  to  do 
His  will.  Ah !  dear  child,  if  we  can  only  have  the  as 
surance  that  that  dear  Friend  is  with  us — that  we 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  47 

His  presence  and  His  love,  we  shall  be  supremely 
happy,  though  separated  from  all  earthly  friends.  I 
know,  dear  little  one,  that  you  have  peculiar  trials,  and 
that  you  often  feel  the  want  of  sympathy  and  love ;  but 
you  may  always  find  them  in  Jesus.  And  now  we  wil1 
have  our  reading  and  prayer  as  usual." 

She  took  the  little  girl  in  her  lap,  and  opening  the 
Bible,  read  aloud  the  fourteenth  chapter  of  John,  3 
part  of  that  touching  farewell  of  our  Saviour  to  Hi» 
sorrowing  disciples;  and  then  they  knelt  to  pray. 
Elsie  was  only  a  listener,  for  her  little  heart  was  too 
full  to  allow  her  to  be  anything  more. 

"My  poor  darling!"  Rose  said,  again  taking  her  in 
her  arms,  "we  will  hope  to  meet  again  before  very  long. 
Who  knows  but  your  papa  may  come  home,  and  some 
day  bring  you  to  see  me.  It  seems  not  unlikely,  as  he 
is  so  fond  of  traveling." 

Elsie  looked  up,  smiling  through  her  tears,  "Oh! 
how  delightful  that  would  be,"  she  said.  "But  it 
seems  as  though  my  papa  would  never  come,"  she 
added,  with  a  deep-drawn  sigh. 

"Well,  darling,  we  can  hope,"  Rose  answered  cheer 
fully.  "And,  dear  child,  though  we  must  be  sep 
arated  in  body  for  a  time,  we  can  still  meet  in  spirit 
at  the  mercy-seat.  Shall  we  not  do  so  at  this  hour 
every  morning?" 

Elsie  gave  a  joyful  assent. 

"And  I  shall  write  to  you,  darling,"  Rose  said ;  "I 
will  write  on  my  journey,  if  I  can,  so  that  you  will  get 
the  letter  in  a  week  from  the  time  I  leave;  and  then 
you  must  write  to  me ;  will  you  ?" 


48  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"If  you  won't  care  for  the  mistakes,  Miss  Rose.  But 
you  know  I  am  a  very  little  girl,  and  I  wouldn't  like 
to  let  Miss  Day  read  my  letter  to  you,  to  correct  it, 
But  I  shall  be  so  very  glad  to  get  yours.  I  never  had 
a  letter  in  my  life." 

"I  sha'n't  care  for  mistakes  at  all,  dear,  and  no 
one  shall  see  your  letters  but  myself/'  said  Rose,  kiss 
ing  her.  "I  should  be  as  sorry  as  you  to  have  Miss 
Day  look  at  them." 

Elsie  drew  out  the  purse  and  put  it  in  her  friend's 
hand,  saying:  "It  is  all  my  own  work,  dear  Miss 
Rose ;  I  thought  you  would  value  it  more  for  that." 

"And  indeed  I  shall,  darling,"  replied  Rose,  with 
tears  of  pleasure  in  her  eyes.  "It  is  beautiful  in  itself, 
but  I  shall  value  it  ten  times  more  because  it  is  your 
gift,  and  the  work  of  your  own  dear  little  hands." 

But  the  breakfast-bell  now  summoned  them  to  join 
the  rest  of  the  family,  and,  in  a  few  moments  after 
they  left  the  table,  the  carriage  which  was  to  take 
Rose  to  the  city  was  at  the  door.  Rose  had  endeared 
herself  to  all,  old  and  young,  and  they  were  loath  to 
part  with  her.  One  after  another  bade  her  an  affec 
tionate  farewell.  Elsie  was  the  last.  Rose  pressed  her 
tenderly  to  her  bosom,  and  kissed  her  again  and  again, 
saying,  in  a  voice  half  choked  with  grief,  "God  bless 
and  keep  you,  my  poor  little  darling ;  my  dear,  dear  lit 
tle  Elsie!" 

Elsie  could  not  speak;  and  the  moment  the  carriage 
had  rolled  away  with  her  friend,  she  went  to  her  own 
room,  and  locking  herself  in,  cried  long  and  bitterly. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  49 

She  had  learned  to  love  Rose  very  dearly,  and  to  lean 
upon  her  very  much;  and  now  the  parting  from  her, 
with  no  certainty  of  ever  meeting  her  again  in  thia 
world,  was  the  severest  trial  the  poor  child  had 


CHAPTER  THIRD 

"The  morning  blush  was  lighted  up  by  hope — 
The  hope  of  meeting  him." 

— Miss  LANDON. 

"Unkindness,  do  thy  office;  poor  heart,  break." 

A  WEEK  had  now  passed  away  since  Miss  Allison's 
departure,  and  Elsie,  to  whom  it  had  been  a  sad  and 
lonely  one,  was  beginning  to  look  eagerly  for  her  first 
letter. 

"It  is  just  a  week  to-day  since  Rose  left,"  remarked 
Adelaide  at  the  breakfast  table,  "and  I  think  we  ought 
to  hear  from  her  soon.  She  promised  to  write  on  her 
journey.  Ah !  here  comes  Pomp  with  the  letters  now," 
she  added,  as  the  servant  man  entered  the  room  bear 
ing  in  his  hand  the  bag  in  which  he  always  brought  the 
letters  of  the  family  from  the  office  in  the  neighboring 
city,  whither  he  was  sent  every  morning. 

"Pomp,  you  are  late  this  morning,"  said  Mrs.  Dins- 
more. 

"Yes,  missus,"  replied  the  negro,  scratching  his  head, 
"de  horses  am  berry  lazy;  spec  dey's  got  de  spring 
fever." 

"Do  make  haste,  papa,  and  see  if  there  is  not  one 
50 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  51 

from  Rose,"  said  Adelaide  coaxingly,  as  her  father 
took  the  bag,  and  very  deliberately  adjusted  his  spec 
tacles  before  opening  it. 

"Have  patience,  young  lady/'  said  he.  "Yes,  here 
is  a  letter  for  you,  and  one  for  Elsie,"  tossing  them 
across  the  table  as  he  spoke. 

Elsie  eagerly  seized  hers  and  ran  away  to  her  own 
room  to  read  it.  It  was  a  feast  to  her,  this  first  letter, 
and  from  such  a  dear  friend,  too.  It  gave  her  almost 
as  much  pleasure  for  the  moment  as  Miss  Rose's  pres 
ence  could  have  afforded. 

She  had  just  finished  its  perusal  and  was  beginning 
it  again,  when  she  heard  Adelaide's  voice  calling  her 
by  name,  and  the  next  moment  she  entered  the  room, 
saying:  "Well,  Elsie,  I  suppose  you  have  read  your  let 
ter;  and  now  I  have  another  piece  of  news  for  you. 
Can  you  guess  what  it  is?"  she  asked,  looking  at  her 
with  a  strange  smile. 

"Oh!  no,  Aunt  Adelaide;  please  tell  me.  Is  dear 
Miss  Rose  coming  back?" 

"O !  nonsense ;  what  a  guess !"  said  Adelaide.  "No, 
stranger  than  that.  My  brother  Horace— your  papa- 
has  actually  sailed  for  America,  and  is  coming  directly 
home." 

Elsie  sprang  up,  her  cheeks  flushed,  and  her  little 
heart  beating  wildly. 

"O  Aunt  Adelaide!"  she  cried,  "is  it  really  true? 
is  he  coming?  and  will  he  be  here  soon?" 

"He  has  really  started  at  last ;  but  how  soon  tie  will 
be  here  I  don't  know,"  replied  her  aunt,  turning  to 
leave  the  room.  "I  have  told  you  all  I  know  about  it" 


52  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

Elsie  clasped  her  hands  together,  and  sank  down 
upon  a  sofa,  Miss  Rose's  letter,  prized  so  highly  a  mo 
ment  before,  lying  unheeded  at  her  feet;  for  her 
thoughts  were  far  away,  following  that  unknown  par 
ent  as  he  crossed  the  ocean;  trying  to  imagine  how 
he  would  look,  how  he  would  speak,  what  would  be 
his  feelings  toward  her. 

"Oh !"  she  asked,  with  a  beating  heart,  "will  he  love 
me?  My  own  papa!  will  he  let  me  love  him?  will  he 
take  me  in  his  arms  and  call  me  his  own  darling  child  ?" 

But  who  could  answer  the  anxious  inquiry?  She 
must  just  wait  until  the  slow  wheels  of  time  should 
bring  the  much  longed-for,  yet  sometimes  half -dreaded 
arrival. 

Elsie's  lessons  were  but  indifferently  recited  that 
morning,  and  Miss  Day  frowned,  and  said  in  a  tone  of 
severity  that  it  did  not  agree  with  her  to  receive  letters ; 
and  that,  unless  she  wished  her  papa  to  be  much  dis 
pleased  with  her  on  his  expected  arrival,  she  must  do  a 
great  deal  better  than  that. 

She  had  touched  the  right  chord  then ;  for  Elsie,  in 
tensely  anxious  to  please  that  unknown  father,  and,  if 
possible,  gain  his  approbation  and  affection,  gave  her 
whole  mind  to  her  studies  with  such  a  determined  pur 
pose  that  the  governess  could  find  no  more  cause  for 
complaint. 

But  while  the  child  is  looking  forward  to  the  ex 
pected  meeting  with  such  longing  affection  for  him, 
how  is  it  with  the  father? 

Horace  Dinsmore  was,  like  his  father,  an  upright, 
moral  man,  who  paid  an  outward  respect  to  the  forms 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  53 

of  religion,  but  cared  nothing  for  the  vital  power  of 
godliness;  trusted  entirely  to  his  morality,  and  looked 
upon  Christians  as  hypocrites  and  deceivers.  He  had 
been  told  that  his  little  Elsie  was  one  of  these,  and, 
though  he  would  not  have  acknowledged  it  even  to 
himself,  it  had  prejudiced  him  against  her.  Then,  too, 
in  common  with  all  the  Dinsmores,  he  had  a  great  deal 
of  family  pride;  and,  though  old  Mr.  Grayson  had 
been  a  man  of  sterling  worth,  intelligent,  honest,  and 
pious,  and  had  died  very  wealthy,  yet  because  he  was 
known  to  have  begun  life  as  a  poor  boy,  the  whole 
family  were  accustomed  to  speak  as  though  Horace  had 
stooped  very  much  in  marrying  his  heiress. 

And  Horace  himself  had  come  to  look  upon  his  early 
marriage  as  a  piece  of  boyish  folly,  of  which  he  was 
rather  ashamed;  and  so  constantly  had  Mr.  Dinsmore 
spoken  in  his  letters  of  Elsie  as  "old  Grayson's  grand 
child,"  that  he  had  got  into  the  habit  of  looking  upon 
her  as  a  kind  of  disgrace  to  him;  especially  as  she 
had  always  been  described  to  him  as  a  disagreeable, 
troublesome  child. 

He  had  loved  his  wife  with  all  the  warmth  of  his 
passionate  nature,  and  had  mourned  bitterly  over  her 
untimely  death ;  but  years  of  study,  travel  and  worldly 
pleasures  had  almost  banished  her  image  from  his 
mind,  and  he  seldom  thought  of  her  except  in  connec 
tion  with  the  child  for  whom  he  felt  a  secret  dislike. 

Scarcely  anything  but  the  expected  arrival  was  now 
spoken  or  thought  of  at  Roselands,  and  Elsie  was  not 
the  only  one  to  whom  old  Time  seemed  to  move  with 
an  unusually  laggard  pace. 


54  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

But  at  length  a  letter  came  telling  them  that  they 
might  look  upon  it  as  being  but  one  day  in  advance 
of  its  writer;  and  now  all  was  bustle  and  preparation. 

"O  mammy,  mammy!"  exclaimed  Elsie,  jumping 
up  and  down,  and  clapping  her  hands  for  joy,  as  she 
came  in  from  her  afternoon  ride,  "just  think!  papa, 
dear  papa,  will  be  here  to-morrow  morning." 

She  seemed  wild  with  delight;  but  suddenly  sobered 
down,  and  a  look  of  care  stole  over  the  little  face,  as 
the  torturing  question  recurred  to  her  mind,  "Will  he 
love  me?" 

She  stood  quite  still,  with  her  eyes  fixed  thought 
fully,  and  almost  sadly,  upon  the  floor,  while  Chloe 
took  off  her  riding  dress  and  cap  and  smoothed  her 
hair.  As  she  finished  arranging  her  dress  she  clasped 
the  little  form  in  her  arms,  and  pressed  a  fond  kiss  on 
the  fair  brow,  thinking  to  herself  that  was  the  sweet 
est  and  loveliest  little  face  she  had  ever  looked  upon. 

Just  at  that  moment  an  unusual  bustle  was  heard  m 
the  house. 

Elsie  started,  changed  color,  and  stood  listening  with 
a  throbbing  heart. 

Presently  little  feet  were  heard  running  rapidly 
down  the  hall,  and  Walter,  throwing  open  the  door, 
called  out,  "Elsie,  he's  come !"  and  catching  her  hand> 
hurried  her  along  to  the  parlor  door. 

"Stop,  stop,  Walter,"  she  gasped  as  they  reached  it ; 
and  she  leaned  against  the  wall,  her  heart  throbbing 
so  wildly  she  could  scarcely  breathe. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  said  he,  "are  you  ill?  come 


ELSIE  DINSMORE  55 

along ;"  and  pushing  the  door  open,  he  rushed  in,  drag 
ging  her  after  him. 

So  over-wrought  were  the  child's  feelings  that  she 
nearly  fainted;  everything  in  the  room  seemed  to  be 
turning  round,  and  for  an  instant  she  scarcely  knew 
where  she  was. 

•But  a  strange  voice  asked,  "And  who  is  this?"  and 
looking  up  as  her  grandfather  pronounced  her  name, 
she  saw  a  stranger  standing  before  her — very  hand 
some,  and  very  youthful-looking,  in  spite  of  a  heavy 
dark  beard  and  mustache — who  exclaimed  hastily, 
"What !  this  great  girl  my  child  ?  really  it  is  enough  to 
make  a  man  feel  old." 

Then,  taking  her  hand,  he  stooped  and  coldly  kissed 
her  lips. 

She  was  trembling  violently,  and  the  very  depth  of 
her  feelings  kept  her  silent  and  still ;  her  hand  lay  still 
in  his,  cold  and  clammy. 

He  held  it  an  instant,  at  the  same  time  gazing 
searchingly  into  her  face ;  then  dropped  it,  saying  in  a 
tone  of  displeasure,  "I  am  not  an  ogre,  that  you  need 
be  so  afraid  of  me ;  but  there,  you  may  go ;  I  will  not 
keep  you  in  terror  any  longer." 

She  rushed  away  to  her  own  room,  and  there,  throw 
ing  herself  upon  the  bed,  wept  long  and  wildly.  It 
was  the  disappointment  of  a  lifelong  hope.  Since  her 
earliest  recollection  she  had  looked  and  longed  for 
this  hour ;  and  it  seemed  as  though  the  little  heart  would 
break  with  its  weight  of  bitter  anguish. 

She  was  all  alone,  for  Chloe  had  gone  down  to  the 
kitchen  to  talk  over  the  arrival,  not  doubting  that  her 


56  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

darling  was  supremely  happy  in  the  possession  of  her 
long  looked-for  parent. 

And  so  the  little  girl  lay  there  with  her  crushed  and 
bleeding  heart,  sobbing,  mourning,  weeping  as  though 
she  would  weep  her  very  life  away,  without  an  earthly 
friend  to  speak  one  word  of  comfort. 

"O  papa,  papa!"  she  sobbed,  "my  own  papa,  you 
do  not  love  me;  me,  your  own  little  girl.  Oh!  my 
heart  will  break.  O  mamma,  mamma!  if  I  could  only 
go  to  you ;  for  there  is  no  one  here  to  love  me,  and  I 
am  so  lonely,  oh !  so  lonely  and  desolate." 

And  thus  Chloe  found  her,  when  she  came  in  an 
hour  later,  weeping  and  sobbing  out  such  broken  excla 
mations  of  grief  and  anguish. 

She  was  much  surprised,  but  comprehending  at  once 
how  her  child  was  suffering,  she  raised  her  up  in  her 
strong  arms,  and  laying  the  little  head  lovingly  against 
her  bosom,  she  smoothed  the  tangled  hair,  kissed  the 
tear-swollen  eyes,  and  bathed  the  throbbing  temples, 
saying,  "My  precious  pet,  my  darlin'  chile,  your  ole 
mammy  loves  you  better  dan  life;  an'  did  my  darlin' 
forget  de  almighty  Friend  dat  says,  'I  have  loved  thee 
with  an  everlasting  love,'  an'  'I  will  never  leave  thee, 
nor  forsake  thee'  ?  He  sticks  closer  dan  a  brudder, 
precious  chile,  and  says,  'though  a  woman  forget  her 
sucking  child,  He  will  not  forget  His  chillen.'  Moth 
ers  love  dere  chillens  better  dan  fathers,  darlin',  and 
so  you  see  Jesus'  love  is  better  dan  all  other  love ;  an' 
I  knows  you  lies  got  dat." 

"O  mammy !  ask  Him  to  take  me  to  Himself,  and  to 
mamma — for  oh !  I  am  very  lonely,  and  I  want  to  die !" 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  5; 

"Hush,  hush,  darlin';  old  Chloe  nebber  could  ask 
dat;  dis  ole  heart  would  break  for  sure.  Yous  all  de 
world  to  your  old  mammy,  darlin' ;  and  you  know  we 
must  all  wait  de  Lord's  time." 

"Then  ask  Him  to  help  me  to  be  patient,"  she  said, 
in  a  weary  tone.  "And  O  mammy!"  she  added,  with 
a  burst  of  bitter  tears,  "ask  Him  to  make  my  father 
love  me." 

"I  will,  darlin',  I  will,"  sobbed  Chloe,  pressing  the 
little  form  closer  to  her  heart ;  "an'  don't  you  go  for 
to  be  discouraged  right  away;  for  I'se  sure  Massa 
Horace  must  love  you,  fore  long." 

The  tea-bell  rang,  and  the  family  gathered  about  the 
table ;  but  one  chair  remained  unoccupied. 

"Where  is  Miss  Elsie?"  asked  Adelaide  of  one  of  the 
servants. 

"Dunno,  missus,"  was  the  reply. 

"Well,  then,  go  and  see,"  said  Adelaide;  "perhaps 
she  did  not  hear  the  bell." 

The  servant  returned  in  a  moment,  saying  that  Miss 
Elsie  had  a  bad  headache  and  did  not  want  any  supper. 
Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore  paused  in  the  conversation  he 
was  carrying  on  with  his  father,  to  listen  to  the  ser 
vant's  announcement.  "I  hope  she  is  not  a  sickly- 
child,"  said  he,  addressing  Adelaide;  "is  she  subject 
to  such  attacks?" 

"Not  very,"  replied  his  sister  dryly,  for  she  had 
seen  the  meeting,  and  felt  really  sorry  for  Elsie's  evi 
dent  disappointment;  "I  imagine  crying  has  brought 
this  on." 

He  colored  violently,  and  said  in  a  tone  of  great  dis- 


58  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

pleasure,  "Truly,  the  return  of  a  parent  is  a  cause  for 
grief;  yet  I  hardly  expected  my  presence  to  be  quite 
so  distressing  to  my  only  child.  I  had  no  idea  that 
she  had  already  learned  to  dislike  me  so  thoroughly." 

"She  doesn't,"  said  Adelaide,  "she  has  been  look 
ing  and  longing  for  your  return  ever  since  I  have 
known  her." 

"Then  she  has  certainly  been  disappointed  in  me; 
her  grief  is  not  at  all  complimentary,  explain  it  as  you 
will." 

Adelaide  made  no  reply,  for  she  saw  that  he  was 
determined  to  put  an  unfavorable  construction  upon 
Elsie's  conduct,  and  feared  that  any  defence  she  could 
offer  would  only  increase  his  displeasure. 

It  was  a  weary,  aching  head  the  little  girl  laid  upon 
her  pillow  that  night,  and  the  little  heart  was  sad  and 
sore;  yet  she  was  not  altogether  comfortless,  for  she 
had  turned  in  her  sorrow  to  Him  who  has  said,  "Suf 
fer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  me,  and  forbid 
them  not/'  and  she  had  the  sweet  assurance  of  His 
love  and  favor. 

It  was  with  a  trembling  heart,  hoping  yet  fearing, 
longing  and  yet  dreading  to  see  her  father,  that  Elsie 
descended  to  the  breakfast-room  the  next  morning, 
She  glanced  timidly  around,  but  he  was  not  there. 

"Where  is  papa,  Aunt  Adelaide?"  she  asked. 

"He  is  not  coming  down  to  breakfast,  as  he  feeh 
quite  fatigued  with  his  journey,"  replied  her  aunt;  "SQ 
you  will  not  see  him  this  morning,  and  perhaps  not  at 
all  to-day,  for  there  will  be  a  good  deal  of  company 
here  this  afternoon  and  evening." 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  59 

Elsie  sighed,  and  looked  sadly  disapponted.  She 
found  it  very  difficult  to  attend  to  her  lessons  that 
morning,  and  every  time  the  door  opened  she  started 
and  looked  up,  half  hoping  it  might  be  her  papa. 

But  he  did  not  come ;  and  when  the  dinner  hour  ar 
rived,  the  children  were  told  that  they  were  to  dine  in 
the  nursery,  on  account  of  the  large  number  of  guests 
to  be  entertained  in  the  dining-room.  The  company  re 
mained  until  bedtime;  she  was  not  called  down  to  the 
parlor;  and  so  saw  nothing  of  her  father  that  day. 

But  the  next  morning  Chloe  told  her  the  children 
were  to  breakfast  with  the  family,  as  all  the  visitors 
had  left  excepting  one  or  two  gentlemen.  So  Elsie 
went  down  to  the  breakfast-room,  where,  to  her  sur 
prise,  she  found  her  papa  sitting  alone,  reading  the 
morning  paper. 

He  looked  up  as  she  entered. 

"Good-morning,  papa,"  she  said,  in  half -trembling' 
tones. 

He  started  a  little — for  it  was  the  first  time  he  had 
ever  been  addressed  by  that  title,  and  it  sounded 
strange  to  his  ears — gave  her  a  glance  of  mingled  cu 
riosity  and  interest,  half  held  out  his  hand,  but  draw 
ing  it  back  again,  simply  said,  "Good-morning,  Elsie/' 
jind  returned  to  his  paper. 

Elsie  steed  irresolutely  in  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
panting,  yet  not  daring  to  go  to  him. 

But  just  at  that  instant  the  door  opened,  and  Enna, 
poking  rosy  and  happy,  came  running  in,  and  rushing 
dp  to  her  brother,  climbed  upon  his  knee,  and  put  her 


60  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

arms  around  his  neck,  saying,  "Good-morning,  brother 
Horace.  I  want  a  kiss." 

"You  shall  have  it,  little  pet,"  said  he,  throwing 
down  his  paper. 

Then,  kissing  her  several  times  and  hugging  her  in 
his  arms,  he  said,  "You  are  not  afraid  of  me,  are 
you  ?  nor  sorry  that  I  have  come  home  ?" 

"No,  indeed,"  said  Enna. 

He  glanced  at  Elsie  as  she  stood  looking  at  them, 
her  large  soft  eyes  full  of  tears.  She  could  not  help 
feeling  that  Enna  had  her  place,  and  was  receiving  the 
caresses  that  should  have  been  lavished  upon  herself. 

"Jealous,"  thought  her  father;  "I  cannot  bear  jealous 
people;"  and  he  gave  her  a  look  of  displeasure  that 
cut  her  to  the  heart,  and  she  turned  quickly  away  and 
left  the  room  to  hide  the  tears  she  could  no  longer  keep 
back. 

"I  am  envious,"  she  thought,  "jealous  of  Enna.  Oh! 
how  wicked!"  And  she  prayed  silently,  "Dear  Sa 
viour,  help  me !  take  away  these  sinful  feelings." 

Young  as  she  was,  she  was  learning  to  have  some 
control  over  her  feelings,  and  in  a  few  moments  she 
had  so  far  recovered  her  composure  as  to  be  able  to 
return  to  the  breakfast-room  and  take  her  place  at  the 
table,  where  the  rest  were  already  seated,  her  sweet  lit 
tle  face  sad  indeed  and  bearing  the  traces  of  tears,  but 
quite  calm  and  peaceful. 

Her  father  took  no  further  notice  of  her,  and  she 
did  not  dare  trust  herself  to  look  at  him.  The  ser 
vants  filled  her  plate,  and  she  ate  in  silence,  feeling  it  a 
great  relief  that  all  were  too  busily  engaged  in  talking 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  6r 

and  eating  to  pay  any  attention  to  her.  She  scarcely 
raised  her  eyes  from  her  plate,  and  did  not  know  how 
often  a  strange  gentleman,  who  sat  nearly  opposite, 
fixed  his  upon  her. 

As  she  left  the  room  at  the  conclusion  of  the  meal,  he 
asked,  while  following  her  with  his  eyes,  "Is  that  one 
of  your  sisters,  Dinsmore?" 

"No,"  said  he,  coloring  slightly ;  "she  is  my  daugb* 
ten" 

"Ah,  indeed!1'  said  his  friend.  "I  remember  to 
have  heard  that  you  had  a  child,  but  had  forgotten  it. 
Well,  you  have  no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  her ;  she  is 
lovely,  perfectly  lovely!  has  the  sweetest  little  face 
I  ever  saw." 

"Will  you  ride,  Travilla?"  asked  Mr.  Dinsmore  has 
tily,  as  though  anxious  to  change  the  subject. 

"I  don't  care  if  I  do,"  was  the  reply,  and  they  went 
out  together. 

Some  hours  later  in  the  day  Elsie  was  at  the  piano  in 
the  music-room  practising,  when  a  sudden  feeling  that 
some  one  was  in  the  room  caused  her  to  turn  and  look 
behind  her. 

Mr.  Travilla  was  standing  there. 

"Excuse  me,"  said  he,  bowing  politely,  "but  I  heard 
the  sound  of  the  instrument,  and,  being  very  fond  of 
music,  I  ventured  to  walk  in." 

Elsie  was  very  modest,  and  rather  timid,  too,  but 
also  very  polite ;  so  she  said,  "No  excuse  is  necessary ; 
but  will  you  not  take  a  seat,  sir?  though  I  fear  my 
music  will  not  afford  you  any  pleasure,  for  you  know 
I  am  only  a  little  girl,  and  cannot  play  very  well  yet." 


62  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"Thank  you,"  said  he,  taking  a  seat  by  her  side. 
"And  now  will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  repeat  the  song 
I  heard  you  singing  a  few  moments  since  ?" 

Elsie  immediately  complied,  though  her  cheeks 
burned,  and  her  voice  trembled  at  first  from  embarrass 
ment  ;  but  it  grew  stronger  as  she  proceeded  and  in  the 
last  verse  was  quite  steady  and  full.  She  had  a  very 
fine  voice  for  a  child  of  her  age;  its  sweetness  was 
remarkable  both  in  singing  and  speaking ;  and  she  had 
also  a  good  deal  of  musical  talent,  which  had  been  well 
cultivated,  for  she  had  had  good  teachers,  and  had 
practised  with  great  patience  and  perseverance.  Her 
music  was  simple,  as  suited  her  years,  but  her  per* 
formance  of  it  was  very  good  indeed. 

Mr.  Travilla  thanked  her  very  heartily,  and  compli 
mented  her  singing;  then  asked  for  another  and  an 
other  song,  another  and  another  piece,  chatting  with 
her  about  each,  until  they  grew  quite  familiar,  and 
Elsie  lost  all  feeling  of  embarrassment. 

"Elsie,  I  think,  is  your  name,  is  it  not?"  he  asked 
after  a  little. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  she,  "Elsie  Dinsmore." 

"And  you  are  the  daughter  of  my  friend,  Mr. 
Horace  Dinsmore?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Your  papa  has  been  absent  a  long  time,  and  I  sup 
pose  you  must  have  quite  forgotten  him." 

"No,  sir,  not  forgotten,  for  I  never  had  seen  him." 

"Indeed !"  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  surprise ;  "then,  since 
he  is  an  entire  stranger  to  you,  I  suppose  you  cannot 
have  much  affection  for  him?" 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  63 

Elsie  raised  her  large,  dark  eyes  to  his  face,  with  an 
expression  of  astonishment.  "Not  love  papa,  my  own 
dear  papa,  who  has  no  child  but  me?  Oh!  sir,  how 
could  you  think  that?" 

"Ah!  I  see  I  was  mistaken/'  said  he,  smiling;  "I 
thought  you  could  hardly  care  for  him  at  all;  but  do 
you  think  that  he  loves  you?" 

Elsie  dropped  her  face  into  her  hands,  and  burst  into 
an  agony  of  tears. 

The  young  gentleman  looked  extremely  vexed  with 
himself. 

"My  poor  little  girl,  my  poor,  dear  little  girl,"  he 
said,  stroking  her  hair,  "forgive  me.  I  am  very,  very 
sorry  for  my  thoughtless  question.  Do  be  comforted, 
my  poor  child,  for  whether  your  papa  loves  you  now  or 
not,  I  am  quite  sure  he  soon  will." 

Elsie  now  dried  her  tears,  rose  and  closed  the  instru 
ment.  He  assisted  her,  and  then  asked  if  she  would 
not  take  a  little  walk  with  him  in  the  garden.  She 
complied,  and,  feeling  really  very  sorry  for  the  wound 
he  had  so  thoughtlessly  inflicted,  as  well  as  interested 
in  his  little  companion,  he  exerted  all  his  powers  to 
entertain  her — talked  with  her  about  the  plants  and 
flowers,  described  those  he  had  seen  in  foreign  lands, 
and  related  incidents  of  travel,  usually  choosing  those 
in  which  her  father  had  borne  a  part,  because  he  per 
ceived  that  they  were  doubly  interesting  to  her. 

Elsie,  having  been  thrown  very  much  upon  her  own 
resources  for  amusement,  and  having  a  natural  love 
for  books,  and  constant  access  to  her  grandfather's 
well-stocked  library,  had  read  many  more,  and  with 


64  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

much  more  thought,  than  most  children  of  her  age,  so 
that  Mr.  Travilla  found  her  a  not  uninteresting  com 
panion,  and  was  often  surprised  at  the  intelligence 
shown  by  her  questions  and  replies. 

When  the  dinner-bell  rang  he  led  her  in,  and  seated 
her  by  himself,  and  never  was  any  lady  more  carefully 
waited  upon  than  little  Elsie  at  this  meal.  Two  or 
three  other  gentlemen  guests  were  present,  giving  their 
attention  to  the  older  ladies  of  the  company,  and  thus 
Mr.  Travilla  seemed  to  feel  quite  at  liberty  to  devote 
himself  entirely  to  her,  attending  to  all  her  wants,  talk 
ing  with  her,  and  making  her  talk. 

Elsie  now  and  then  stole  a  glance  at  Mrs.  Dinsmore, 
fearing  her  displeasure;  but  to  her  great  relief,  the 
lady  seemed  too  much  occupied  to  notice  her.  Once 
she  looked  timidly  at  her  father,  and  her  eyes  met  his. 
He  was  looking  at  her  with  an  expression  half  curious, 
half  amused.  She  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  the 
look,  but,  satisfied  that  there  was  no  displeasure  in  it, 
her  heart  grew  light,  and  her  cheeks  flushed  with  hap 
piness. 

"Really,  Dinsmore,"  said  Mr.  Travilla,  as  they  stood 
together  near  one  of  the  windows  of  the  drawing- 
room  soon  after  dinner,  "your  little  girl  is  remarkably 
intelligent,  as  well  as  remarkably  pretty;  and  I  have 
discovered  that  she  has  quite  a  good  deal  of  musical 
talent" 

"Indeed !  I  think  it  is  quite  a  pity  that  she  does  not 
belong  to  you,  Travilla,  instead  of  me,  since  you  seem 
to  appreciate  her  so  much  more  highly,"  replied  the 
father,  laughing. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  65 

"I  wish  she  did,"  said  his  friend.  "But,  seriously, 
Dinsmore,  you  ought  to  love  that  child,  for  she  cer 
tainly  loves  you  devotedly." 

He  looked  surprised.  "How  do  you  know?"  he 
asked. 

"It  was  evident  enough  from  what  I  saw  and  heard 
this  morning.  Dinsmore,  she  would  value  a  caress 
.from  you  more  than  the  richest  jewel." 

"Doubtful,"  replied  Horace,  hastily  quitting  the  room, 
for  Elsie  had  come  out  on  to  the  portico  in  her  riding 
suit,  and  Jim,  her  usual  attendant,  was  bringing  up 
her  horse. 

"Are  you  going  to  ride,  Elsie?"  asked  her  father, 
coming  up  to  her. 

"Yes,  papa,"  she  said,  raising  her  eyes  to  his  face. 

He  lifted  her  in  his  arms  and  placed  her  on  the  horse, 
saying  to  the  servant  as  he  did  so,  "Now,  Jim,  you 
must  take  good  care  of  my  little  girl." 

Tears  of  happiness  rose  in  Elsie's  eyes  as  she  turned 
her  horse's  head  and  rode  down  the  avenue.  "He 
called  me  his  little  girl,"  she  murmured  to  herself, 
"and  bade  Jim  take  good  care  of  me.  Oh!  he  will 
love  me  soon,  as  good,  kind  Mr.  Travilla  said  he 
would." 

Her  father  was  still  standing  on  the  portico,  look 
ing  after  her. 

"How  well  she  sits  her  horse!"  remarked  Travilla, 
who  had  stepped  out  and  stood  close  by  his  side. 

"Yes,  I  think  she  does,"  was  the  reply,  in  an  absent 
tone.  He  was  thinking  of  a  time,  some  eight  or  nine 


66  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

years  before,  when  he  had  assisted  another  Elsie  to 
mount  her  horse,  and  had  ridden  for  hours  at  her  side. 

All  the  afternoon  memories  of  the  past  came  crowd 
ing  thickly  on  his  mind,  and  an  emotion  of  tenderness 
began  to  spring  up  in  his  heart  toward  the  child  of 
her  who  had  once  been  so  dear  to  him;  and  as  he  saw 
the  little  girl  ride  up  to  the  house  on  her  return,  he 
again  went  out,  and  lifting  her  from  her  horse,  asked 
kindly,  "Had  you  a  pleasant  ride,  my  dear  ?" 

"Oh !  yes,  papa,  very  pleasant,"  she  said,  looking  u^ 
at  him  with  a  face  beaming  with  delight.  He  stooped 
and  kissed  her,  saying,  "I  think  I  shall  ride  with  you 
one  of  these  days;  should  you  like  it?" 

"Oh !  so  very,  very  much,  papa,"  she  answered,  eag 
erly. 

He  smiled  at  her  earnestness,  and  she  hastened  away 
to  her  room  to  change  her  dress  and  tell  Chloe  of  her 
happiness. 

Alas !  it  was  but  a  transient  gleam  of  sunshine  that 
darted  across  her  path,  to  be  lost  again  almost  in 
stantly  behind  the  gathering  clouds. 

More  company  came,  so  that  the  drawing-room  was 
quite  full  in  the  evening ;  and,  though  Elsie  was  there, 
her  father  seemed  too  much  occupied  with  the  guests 
to  give  her  even  a  glance.  She  sat  alone  and  unno 
ticed  in  a  corner,  her  eyes  following  him  wherever  he 
moved,  and  her  ear  strained  to  catch  every  tone  of  his 
voice;  until  Mr.  Travilla,  disengaging  himself  from 
SL  group  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  room,  came  up  to  her,  and  taking  her  by  the 
hand,  led  her  to  a  pleasant-looking  elderly  lady,  who 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  67 

sat  at  a  centre-table  examining  some  choice  engravings 
which  Mr.  Dinsmore  had  brought  with  him  from  Eu 
rope. 

"Mother,"  said  Mr.  Travilla,  "this  is  my  little  friend 
Elsie." 

"Ah!"  said  she,  giving  the  little  girl  a  kiss,  "I  am 
glad  to  see  you,  my  dear." 

Mr.  Travilla  set  a  chair  for  her  close  to  his  mother 
and  then  sat  down  on  her  other  side,  and  taking  up 
the  engravings  one  after  another,  he  explained  them 
to  her  in  a  most  entertaining  manner,  generally  hav 
ing  some  anecdote  to  tell  in  connection  with  each. 

Elsie  was  so  much  amused  and  delighted  with  what 
he  was  saying  that  she  at  last  quite  forgot  her  father, 
and  did  not  notice  where  he  was. 

Suddenly  Mr.  Travilla  laid  down  the  engraving  he 
had  in  his  hand,  saying:  "Come,  Miss  Elsie,  I  want 
my  mother  to  hear  you  play  and  sing;  will  you  not 
do  me  the  favor  to  repeat  that  song  I  admired  so  much 
this  morning?" 

"Oh !  Mr.  Travilla !"  exclaimed  the  little  girl,  blush 
ing  and  trembling,  "I  could  not  play  or  sing  before  so 
many  people.  Please  excuse  me." 

"Elsie,"  said  her  father's  voice  just  at  her  side,  "go 
immediately,  and  do  as  the  gentleman  requests." 

His  tone  was  very  stern,  and  as  she  lifted  her  eyes 
to  his  face,  she  saw  that  his  look  was  still  more  so ;  and 
tremblingly  and  tearfully  she  rose  to  obey. 

"Stay,"  said  Mr.  Travilla  kindly,  pitying  her  dis 
tress,  "I  withdraw  my  request." 

"But  I  do  not  withdraw  my  command,"  said  her 


68  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

father  in  the  same  stern  tone;  "go  at  once,  Elsie,  and 
do  as  I  bid  you." 

She  obeyed  instantly,  struggling  hard  to  overcome 
her  emotion. 

Mr.  Travilla,  scolding  himself  inwardly  all  the  time 
for  having  brought  her  into  such  trouble,  selected  her 
music,  and  placing  it  before  her  as  she  took  her  seat 
at  the  instrument,  whispered  encouragingly,  "Now, 
Miss  Elsie,  only  have  confidence  in  yourself ;  that  is  all 
that  is  necessary  to  your  success." 

But  Elsie  was  not  only  embarrassed,  but  her  heart 
was  well-nigh  broken  by  her  father's  sternness,  and 
the  tears  would  fill  her  eyes  so  that  she  could  see 
neither  notes  nor  words.  She  attempted  to  play  the 
prelude,  but  blundered  sadly,  her  embarrassment  in 
creasing  every  moment. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Mr.  Travilla,  "never  mind  the 
prelude,  but  just  begin  the  song." 

She  made  the  attempt,  but  fairly  broke  down,  and 
burst  into  tears  before  she  had  got  through  the  first 
verse.  Her  father  had  come  up  behind  her,  and  was 
standing  there,  looking  much  mortified. 

"Elsie,"  he  said,  leaning  down  and  speaking  in  a 
low,  stern  tone,  close  to  her  ear,  "I  am  ashamed  ^f 
you ,  go  to  your  room  and  to  your  bed  immediately/' 

With  a  heart  almost  bursting  with  grief  and  morti 
fication  she  obeyed  him,  and  her  pillow  was  wet  with 
many  bitter  tears  ere  the  weary  eyes  closed  in  slum-* 
ber. 

When  she  came  down  the  next  morning  she  learn&d 
to  her  great  grief  that  Mr.  Travilla  and  his  mother  had 


ELSIE  DINSMORE  69 

returned  to  their  own  home;  she  was  very  sorry  she 
had  not  been  permitted  to  say  good-bye  to  her  friend, 
and  for  several  days  she  felt  very  sad  and  lonely,  for 
all  her  father's  coldness  of  manner  had  returned,  and 
he  scarcely  ever  spoke  to  her ;  while  the  younger  mem 
bers  of  the  family  ridiculed  her  for  her  failure  in  at 
tempting  to  play  for  company;  and  Miss  Day,  who 
seemed  unusually  cross  and  exacting,  often  taunted 
her  with  it  also. 

These  were  sad,  dark  days  for  the  little  girl;  she 
tried  most  earnestly  to  attend  to  all  her  duties,  but  so 
depressed  were  her  spirits,  so  troubled  was  her  mind, 
that  she  failed  repeatedly  in  her  lessons,  and  so  was 
in  continual  disgrace  with  Miss  Day,  who  threatened 
more  than  once  to  tell  her  papa. 

It  was  a  threat  which  Elsie  dreaded  extremely  to 
have  put  in  execution,  and  Miss  Day,  seeing  that  it 
distressed  her,  used  it  the  more  frequently,  and  thus 
kept  the  poor  child  in  constant  terror. 

How  to  gain  her  father's  love  was  the  constant  sub 
ject  of  her  thoughts,  and  she  tried  in  many  ways  to 
win  his  affection.  She  always  yielded  a  ready  and 
cheerful  obedience  to  his  commands,  and  strove  to  an 
ticipate  and  fulfil  all  his  wishes.  But  he  seldom  no 
ticed  her,  unless  to  give  a  command  or  administer  a  re 
buke,  while  he  lavished  many  a  caress  upon  his  little 
sister,  Enna.  Often  Elsie  would  watch  him  fondling 
her,  until,  unable  any  longer  to  control  her  feelings, 
she  would  rush  away  to  her  own  room  to  weep  and 
mourn  in  secret,  and  pray  that  her  father  might  some 
day  learn  to  love  her.  She  never  complained  even  to 


70  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

poor  old  Aunt  Chloe,  but  the  anxious  nurse  watched 
all  these  things  with  the  jealous  eye  of  affection;  she 
saw  that  her  child — as  she  delighted  to  call  her — was 
very  unhappy,  and  was  growing  pale  and  melancholy ; 
and  her  heart  ached  for  her,  and  many  were  the  tears 
the  shed  in  secret  over  the  sorrows  of  her  nursling. 

"Don't  'pear  so  sorrowful,  darlin',"  she  sometimes 
said  to  her ;  "try  to  be  merry,  like  Miss  Enna,  and  run 
and  jump  on  Massa  Horace's  knee,  and  den  I  tink  he 
will  like  you  better." 

"O  mammy !  I  can't,"  Elsie  would  say ;  "I  don't  dare 
to  do  it." 

And  Chloe  would  sigh  and  shake  her  head  sorrow 
fully. 


CHAPTER  FOURTH 

"With  more  capacity  for  love  than  earth 
Bestows  on  most  of  mortal  mould  and  birth." 

— BYXOJC. 

"What  are  our  hopes? 

Like  garlands,  on  afflictions's  forehead  worn, 
Kissed  in  the  morning,  and  at  evening  torn." 

— DAVENPORT'S  King  John  and  Matilda. 

SUCH  had  been  the  state  of  affairs  for  about  a  week, 
when  one  morning  Elsie  and  her  father  met  at  the 
breakfast-room  door. 

"Good  morning,  papa/'  she  said  timidly. 

"Good  morning,  Elsie,"  he  replied  in  an  unusually 
pleasant  tone. 

Then,  taking  her  by  the  hand,  he  led  her  in  and 
seated  her  beside  himself  at  the  table. 

Elsie's  cheek  glowed  and  her  eyes  sparkled  with 
pleasure. 

There  were  several  guests  present,  and  she  waited 
patiently  while  they  and  the  older  members  of  the 
family  were  being  helped.  At  length  it  was  her  turn. 

"Elsie,  will  you  have  some  meat  ?"  asked  her  grand 
father. 

"No,"  said  her  father,  answering  for  her;  "once  a 
73 


72  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

day  is  as  often  as  a  child  of  her  age  ought  to  eat 
meat;  she  may  have  it  at  dinner,  but  never  for  break 
fast  or  tea." 

The  elder  Mr.  Dinsmore  laughed,  saying,  "Really, 
Horace,  I  had  no  idea  you  were  so  notionate.  I  al 
ways  allowed  you  to  eat  whatever  you  pleased,  and  I 
never  saw  that  it  hurt  you.  But,  of  course,  you  must 
manage  your  own  child  in  your  own  way." 

"If  you  please,  papa,  I  had  rather  have  some  of 
those  hot  cakes,"  said  Elsie,  timidly,  as  her  father  laid 
a  slice  of  bread  upon  her  plate. 

"No,"  said  he  decidedly;  "I  don't  approve  of  hot 
bread  for  children;  you  must  eat  the  cold."  Then  to 
a  servant  who  was  setting  down  a  cup  of  coffee  beside 
the  little  girl's  plate,  "Take  that  away,  Pomp,  and  bring 
Miss  Elsie  a  tumbler  of  milk.  Or  would  you  prefer 
water,  Elsie?" 

"Milk,  if  you  please,  papa,"  she  replied  with  a  little 
sigh ;  for  she  was  extremely  fond  of  coffee,  and  it  was 
something  of  a  trial  to  give  it  up. 

Her  father  put  a  spoonful  of  stewed  fruit  upon  her 
plate,  and  as  Pompey  set  down  a  tumbler  of  rich  milk 
beside  it,  said,  "Now  you  have  your  breakfast  before 
you,  Elsie.  Children  in  England  are  not  allowed  to 
eat  butter  until  they  are  ten  or  eleven  years  of  age,  and 
I  think  it  an  excellent  plan,  to  make  them  grow  up  rosy 
and  healthy.  I  have  neglected  my  little  girl  too  long, 
but  I  intend  to  begin  to  take  good  care  of  her  now," 
he  added,  with  a  smile,  and  laying  his  hand  for  an  in 
stant  upon  her  head. 

The  slight  caress  and  the  few  kind  words  were  quite 


<BLSIE  DINSMORE  73 

enough  to  reconcile  Elsie  to  the  rather  meagre  fare, 
and  she  ate  it  with  a  happy  heart.  But  the  meagre 
fare  became  a  constant  thing,  while  the  caresses  and 
kind  words  were  not ;  and  though  she  submitted  with 
out  a  murmur,  she  could  not  help  sometimes  looking 
with  longing  eyes  at  the  coffee  and  hot  buttered  rolls, 
of  which  she  was  very  fond.  But  she  tried  to  be  con 
tented,  saying  to  herself,  "Papa  knows  best,  and  I 
ought  to  be  satisfied  with  whatever  he  gives  me." 

"Isn't  it  delightful  to  have  your  papa  at  home, 
Elsie?"  Mr.  Dinsmore  one  morning  overheard  Arthur 
saying  to  his  little  girl  in  a  mocking  tone.  "It's  very 
pleasant  to  live  on  bread  and  water,  isn't  it,  eh?" 

"I  don't  live  on  bread  and  water,"  Elsie  replied,  a 
little  indignantly.  "Papa  always  allows  me  to  have 
as  much  good,  rich  milk,  and  cream,  and  fruit  as  I 
want,  or  I  can  have  eggs,  or  cheese,  or  honey,  or  any 
thing  else,  except  meat  and  hot  cakes,  and  butter,  and 
coffee;  and  who  wouldn't  rather  do  without  such 
things  all  their  lives  than  not  have  a  papa  to  love 
them?  And  besides,  you  know,  Arthur,  that  I  can 
have  all  the  meat  I  want  at  dinner." 

"Pooh!  that's  nothing;  and  /  wouldn't  give  much 
for  all  the  love  you  get  from  him,"  said  Arthur,  scorn 
fully. 

There  was  something  like  a  sob  from  Elsie ;  and  as 
her  father  rose  and  went  to  the  window,  he  just 
caught  a  glimpse  of  her  white  dress  disappearing  down 
the  garden  walk. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  teasing  Elsie  in  that 
manner?"  he  exclaimed  angrily  to  Arthur,  who  still 


74  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

stood  where  the  litle  girl  had  left  him,  leaning  against 
one  of  the  pillars  of  the  portico. 

"I  only  wanted  to  have  a  little  fun,"  returned  the 
boy  doggedly. 

"Well,  sir,  I  don't  approve  of  such  fun,  and  you 
will  please  to  let  the  child  alone  in  future,"  replied  his 
brother  as  he  returned  to  his  newspaper  afgain. 

But  somehow  the  paper  had  lost  its  interest.  He 
seemed  constantly  to  hear  that  little  sob,  and  to  see  a 
little  face  all  wet  with  tears  of  wounded  feeling. 

Just  then  the  school-bell  rang,  and  suddenly  throw 
ing  down  his  paper,  he  took  a  card  from  his  pocket, 
wrote  a  few  words  upon  it,  and  calling  a  servant,  said, 
"Take  this  to  Miss  Day." 

Elsie  was  seated  at  her  desk,  beginning  her  morn., 
ing's  work,  when  the  servant  entered  and  handed  tht 
card  to  the  governess. 

Miss  Day  glanced  at  it  and  said : 

"Elsie,  your  father  wants  you.    You  may  go." 

Elsie  rose  in  some  trepidation  and  left  the  room, 
wondering  what  her  papa  could  want  with  her. 

"Where  is  papa,  Fanny?"  she  asked  of  the  servant. 

"In  de  drawin'-room,  Miss  Elsie,"  was  the  reply; 
and  she  hastened  to  seek  him  there. 

He  held  out  his  hand  as  she  entered,  saying  with 
a  smile,  "Come  here,  daughter." 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  called  her  that,  and  it 
sent  a  thrill  of  joy  to  her  heart. 

She  sprang  to  his  side,  and,  taking  her  hand  in  one 
of  his,  and  laying  the  other  gently  on  her  head,  and 
bending  it  back  a  little,  he  looked  keenly  into  her  face. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  75 

It  was  bright  enough  now,  yet  the  traces  of  tears  were 
very  evident. 

"You  have  been  crying,"  he  said,  in  a  slightly  re 
proving  tone.  "I  am  afraid  you  do  a  great  deal  more 
of  that  than  is  good  for  you.  It  is  a  very  babyish 
habit,  and  you  must  try  to  break  yourself  of  it." 

The  little  face  flushed  painfully,  and  the  eyes  filled 
again. 

"There,"  he  said,  stroking  her  hair,  "don't  begin  it 
again.  I  am  going  to  drive  over  to  Ion,  where  your 
friend  Mr.  Travilla  lives,  to  spend  the  day;  would  my 
little  daughter  like  to  go  with  me?" 

"Oh !  so  very  much,  papa !"  she  answered  eagerly. 

"There  are  no  little  folks  there,"  he  said  smiling, 
"nobody  to  see  but  Mr.  Travilla  and  his  mother.  But 
I  see  you  want  to  go;  so  run  and  ask  Aunt  Chloe  to 
get  you  ready.  Tell  her  I  want  you  nicely  dressed,  and 
the  carriage  will  be  at  the  door  in  half  an  hour." 

Elsie  bounded  away  to  do  his  bidding,  her  face  ra 
diant  with  happiness;  and  at  the  specified  time  came 
down  again,  looking  so  very  lovely  that  her  father 
gazed  at  her  with  proud  delight,  and  could  not  refrain 
from  giving  her  a  kiss  as  he  lifted  her  up  to  place  her 
in  the  carriage. 

Then,  seating  himself  beside  her,  he  took  her  hand  in 
his ;  and,  closing  the  door  with  the  other,  bade  the 
coachman  drive  on. 

"I  suppose  you  have  never  been  to  Ion,  Elsie  ?"  he 
said,  inquiringly. 

"No,  sir;  but  I  have  heard  Aunt  Adelaide  say  she 
thought  it  a  very  pretty  place,"  replied  the  little  girl. 


76  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"So  it  is — almost  as  pretty  as  Roselands,"  said  her 
father.  "Travilla  and  I  have  known  each  other  from 
boyhood,  and  I  spent  many  a  happy  day  at  Ion,  and 
we  had  many  a  boyish  frolic  together,  before  I  ever 
thought  of  you." 

He  smiled,  and  patted  her  cheek  as  he  spoke. 

Elsie's  eyes  sparkled.  "O  papa!"  she  said  eagerly; 
"won't  you  tell  me  about  those  times?  It  seems  so 
strange  that  you  were  ever  a  little  boy  and  I  was  no 
where." 

He  laughed.  Then  said,  musingly,  "It  seems  but  a 
very  little  while  to  me,  Elsie,  since  I  was  no  older 
than  you  are  now." 

He  heaved  a  sigh,  and  relapsed  into  silence. 

Elsie  wished  very  much  that  he  would  grant  her  re 
quest,  but  did  not  dare  to  disturb  him  by  speaking  a 
word;  and  they  rode  on  quietly  for  some  time,  until 
a  squirrel  darting  up  a  tree  caught  her  eye,  and  she  ut 
tered  an  exclamation.  "O  papa !  did  you  see  that  squir 
rel?  look  at  him  now,  perched  up  on  that  branch. 
There,  we  have  passed  the  tree,  and  now  he  is  out  of 
sight. 

This  reminded  Mr.  Dinsmore  of  a  day  he  had  spent 
in  those  woods  hunting  squirrels,  when  quite  a  boy, 
and  he  gave  Elsie  an  animated  account  of  it.  One  of 
the  incidents  of  the  day  had  been  the  accidental  dis 
charge  of  the  fowling-piece  of  one  of  his  young  com 
panions,  close  at  Horace  Dinsmore's  side,  missing  him 
by  but  a  hair's  breadth. 

"I  felt  faint  and  sick  when  I  knew  how  near  I  had 
been  to  death,"  he  said,  as  he  finished  his  narrative. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  77 

Elsie  had  been  listening  with  breathless  interest. 

"Dear  papa,"  she  murmured,  laying  her  little  cheek 
against  his  hand,  ''how  good  God  was  to  spare  your 
life!  If  you  had  been  killed  I  could  never  have  had 
you  for  my  papa." 

"Perhaps  you  might  have  had  a  much  better  one, 
Elsie,"  he  said  gravely. 

"Oh!  no,  papa,  I  wouldn't  want  any  other,"  she 
replied  earnestly,  pressing  his  hand  to  her  lips. 

"Ah !  here  we  are,n  exclaimed  her  father,  as  at  that 
instant  the  carriage  turned  into  a  broad  avenue,  up 
which  they  drove  quite  rapidly,  and  the  next  moment 
they  had  stopped,  the  coachman  had  thrown  open  the 
carriage  door,  and  Mr.  Dinsmore,  springing  out,  lifted 
his  little  girl  in  his  arms  and  set  her  down  on  the  steps 
of  the  veranda. 

"Ah !  Dinsmore,  how  do  you  do  ?  Glad  to  see  you0 
and  my  little  friend  Elsie,  too.  Why  this  is  really 
kind,"  cried  Mr.  Travilla,  in  his  cheerful,  hearty  way, 
as,  hurrying  out  to  welcome  them,  he  shook  Mr.  Dins- 
more  cordially  by  the  hand,  and  kissed  Elsie's  cheek. 

"Walk  in,  walk  in,"  he  continued,  leading  the  way 
into  the  house,  "my  mother  will  be  delighted  to  see 
you  both ;  Miss  Elsie  especially,  for  she  seems  to  have 
taken  a  very  great  fancy  to  her." 

If  Mrs.  Travilla's  greeting  was  less  boisterous,  it 
certainly  was  not  lacking  in  cordiality,  and  she  made 
Elsie  feel  at  home  at  once;  taking  off  her  bonnet, 
smoothing  her  hair,  and  kissing  her  affectionately. 

The  gentlemen  soon  went  out  together,  and  Elsie 
spent  the  morning  in  Mrs.  Travilla's  room,  chatting 


78  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

with  her  and  assisting  her  with  some  coarse  garments 
she  was  making  for  her  servants. 

Mrs.  Travilla  was  an  earnest  Christian,  and  the 
lady  and  the  little  girl  were  not  long  in  discovering 
the  tie  which  existed  between  them. 

Mrs.  Travilla,  being  also  a  woman  of  great  discern 
ment,  and  having  known  Horace  Dinsmore  nearly  all 
his  life,  had  conceived  a  very  correct  idea  of  the  trials 
and  difficulties  of  Elsie's  situation,  and  without  allud 
ing  to  them  at  all,  gave  her  some  most  excellent  ad 
vice,  which  the  little  girl  received  very  thankfully. 

They  were  still  chatting  together  when  Mr.  Travilla 
came  in,  saying,  "Come,  Elsie,  I  want  to  take  you  out 
to  see  my  garden,  hot-house,  etc.  We  will  just  have 
time  before  dinner.  Will  you  go  along,  mother?" 

"No;  I  have  some  little  matters  to  attend  to  before 
dinner,  and  will  leave  you  to  do  the  honors,"  replied 
the  lady;  and  taking  the  little  girl's  hand  he  led  her 
out. 

"Where  is  papa?"  asked  Elsie. 

"Oh!  he's  in  the  library,  looking  over  some  new 
books,"  replied  Mr.  Travilla.  "He  always  cared  more 
for  books  than  anything  else.  But  what  do  you  think 
of  my  flowers  ?" 

"Oh!  they  are  lovely!  What  a  variety  you  have! 
what  a  splendid  cape-jessamine  that  is,  and  there  is  a 
variety  of  cactus  I  never  saw  before!  Oh!  you  have 
a  great  many  more,  and  handsomer,  I  think,  than  we 
have  at  Roselands/'  exclaimed  Elsie,  as  she  passed  ad 
miringly  from  one  to  another. 

Mr.  Travilla  was  much  pleased  with  the  admiration 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  79 

she  expressed,  for  he  was  very  fond  of  his  flowers,  and 
took  great  pride  in  showing  them. 

But  they  were  soon  called  in  to  dinner,  where  Elsie 
was  seated  by  her  father. 

"I  hope  this  little  girl  has  not  given  you  any  trouble, 
Mrs.  Travilla,"  said  he,  looking  gravely  at  her. 

"Oh!  no,"  the  lady  hastened  to  say,  "I  have  enjoyed 
her  company  very  much  indeed,  and  hope  you  will 
bring  her  to  see  me  again  very  soon." 

After  dinner,  as  the  day  was  very  warm,  they  ad 
journed  to  the  veranda,  which  was  the  coolest  place  to 
be  found;  it  being  on  the  shady  side  of  the  house, 
and  also  protected  by  thick  trees,  underneath  which 
a  beautiful  fountain  was  playing. 

But  the  conversation  was  upon  some  subject  which 
did  not  interest  Elsie,  and  she  presently  stole  away  to 
the  library,  and  seating  herself  in  a  corner  of  the  sofa, 
was  soon  lost  to  everything  around  her  in  the  intense 
interest  with  which  she  was  reading  a  book  she  had 
taken  from  the  table. 

"Ah !  that  is  what  you  are  about,  Miss  Elsie !  a  book 
worm,  just  like  your  father,  I  see.  I  had  been  won 
dering  what  had  become  of  you  for  the  last  two  hours," 
exclaimed  Mr.  Travilla's  pleasant  voice;  and  sitting 
down  beside  her,  he  took  the  book  from  her  hand,  and 
putting  it  behind  him,  said,  "Put  it  away  now  ;  you  will 
have  time  enough  to  finish  it,  and  I  want  you  to  talk  to 
me." 

"Oh !  please  let  me  have  it,"  she  pleaded.  "I  shall 
not  have  much  time,  for  papa  will  soon  be  calling  me 
to  go  home." 


80  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"No,  no,  fie  is  not  to  take  you  away ;  I  have  made  a 
bargain  with  him  to  let  me  keep  you,"  said  Mr.  Tra- 
villa,  very  gravely.  "We  both  think  that  there  are 
children  enough  at  Roselands  without  you ;  and  so  your 
papa  has  given  you  to  me ;  and  you  are  to  be  my  little 
girl,  and  call  me  papa  in  future." 

Elsie  gazed  earnestly  in  his  face  for  an  instant,  say 
ing  in  a  half -frightened  tone,  "You  are  only  joking, 
Mr.  Travilla." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  he;  "can't  you  see  that  I'm 
ir.  earnest?" 

His  tone  and  look  were  both  so  serious  that  for  an 
instant  Elsie  believed  he  meant  all  that  he  was  saying, 
and  springing  to  her  feet  with  a  little  cry  of  alarm,  she 
hastily  withdrew  her  hand  which  he  had  taken,  and 
rushing  out  to  the  veranda,  where  her  father  still  sat 
conversing  with  Mrs.  Travilla,  she  flung  herself  into 
his  arms,  and  clinging  to  him,  hid  her  face  on  his 
breast,  sobbing,  "O  papa,  dear  papa!  don't  give  me 
away ;  please  don't — I  will  be  so  good — I  will  do  every 
thing  you  bid  me — I " 

"Why,  Elsie,  what  does  all  this  mean!"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Dinsmore  in  great  surprise  and  perplexity ;  while 
Mr.  Travilla  stood  in  the  doorway  looking  half  amused, 
half  sorry  for  what  he  had  done. 

"O  papa !"  sobbed  the  little  girl,  still  clinging  to  him 
as  though  fearing  she  should  be  torn  from  his  arms, 
"Mr.  Travilla  says  you  have  given  me  to  him.  O 
papa!  don't  give  me  away." 

"Pooh !  nonsense,  Elsie !  I  am  ashamed  of  you !  how 
can  you  be  so  very  silly  as  to  believe  for  one  moment 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  81 

anything  so  perfectly  absurd  as  that  I  should  think  of 
giving  you  away?  Why,  I  would  as  soon  think  of  part 
ing  with  my  eyes." 

Elsie  raised  her  head  and  gazed  searchingly  into  his 
face;  then  with  a  deep-drawn  sigh  of  relief,  dropped 
it  again,  saying,  "Oh !  I  am  so  glad." 

"Really,  Miss  Elsie,"  said  Travilla,  coming  up  and 
patting  her  on  the  shoulder,  "I  can't  say  that  I  feel 
much  complimented ;  and,  indeed,  I  don't  see  why  you 
need  have  been  so  very  much  distressed  at  the  pros 
pect  before  you ;  for  I  must  say  I  have  vanity  enough 
to  imagine  that  I  should  make  the  better — or  at  least 
the  more  indulgent — father  of  the  two.  Come,  now, 
wouldn't  you  be  willing  to  try  me  for  a  month,  if  your 
papa  will  give  consent?" 

Elsie  shook  her  head. 

"I  will  let  you  have  your  own  way  in  everything," 
urged  Travilla,  coaxingly;  "and  I  know  that  is  more 
than  he  does." 

"I  don't  want  my  own  way,  Mr.  Travilla;  I  know 
it  wouldn't  always  be  a  good  way,"  replied  Elsie,  de 
cidedly. 

Her  father  laughed  and  passed  his  hand  caressingly 
over  her  curls. 

"I  thought  you  liked  me,  little  Elsie,"  said  Travilla, 
in  a  tone  of  disappointment. 

"So  I  do,  Mr.  Travilla;  I  like  you  very  much," 
she  replied. 

"Well,  don't  you  think  I  would  make  a  good  father?" 

"I  am  sure  you  would  be  very  kind,  and  that  I  should 
lave  you  very  much;  but  not  so  much  as  I  love  my 


82  ELSIE  DINSMORE 

own  papa;  because,  you  know,  you  are  not  my  papa, 
and  never  can  be,  even  if  he  should  give  me  to  you." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  laughed  heartily,  saying,  "I  think 
you  may  as  well  give  it  up,  Travilla ;  it  seems  I'll  have 
to  keep  her  whether  or  no,  for  she  clings  to  me  like  a 
leech." 

"Well,  Elsie,  you  will  at  least  come  to  the  piano  and 
£lay  a  little  for  me,  will  you  not?"  asked  Travilla, 
smiling. 

But  Elsie  still  clung  to  her  father,  seeming  loath  to 
leave  him,  until  he  said,  in  his  grave,  decided  way,  "Go, 
Elsie ;  go  at  once,  and  do  as  you  are  requested." 

Then  she  rose  instantly  to  obey. 

Travilla  looked  somewhat  vexed.  "I  wish,"  he  after 
ward  remarked  to  his  mother,  "that  Dinsmore  was  not 
quite  so  ready  to  second  my  requests  with  his  com 
mands.  I  want  Elsie's  compliance  to  be  voluntary ;  else 
I  think  it  worth  very  little." 

Elsie  played  and  sang  until  they  were  called  to  tea ; 
after  which  she  sat  quietly  by  her  father's  side,  listen 
ing  to  the  conversation  of  her  elders  until  the  car 
riage  was  announced. 

"Well,  my  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore,  when  they 
were  fairly  upon  their  way  to  Roselands,  "have  you 
had  a  pleasant  day  ?" 

"Oh !  very  pleasant,  papa,  excepting — "  She  paused, 
looking  a  little  embarrassed. 

"Well,  excepting  what?"  he  asked,  smiling  down  at 
her. 

"Excepting  when  Mr.  Travilla   frightened  me  so, 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  83 

papa,"  she  replied,  moving  closer  to  his  side,  blushing 
and  casting  down  her  eyes. 

"And  you  do  love  your  own  papa  best,  and  don't 
want  to  exchange  him  for  another?"  he  said,  inquir* 
ingly,  as  he  passed  his  arm  affectionately  around  her 
waist. 

"Oh !  no,  dear  papa,  not  for  anybody  else  in  all  the 
world,"  she  said  earnestly. 

He  made  no  reply  in  words,  but,  looking  highly  grat 
ified,  bent  down  and  kissed  her  cheek. 

He  did  not  speak  again  during  their  ride,  but  when 
the  carriage  stopped  he  lifted  her  out,  and  setting  her 
gently  down,  bade  her  a  kind  good-night,  saying  it  was 
time  for  mammy  to  put  her  to  bed. 

She  ran  lightly  up-stairs,  and  springing  into  her 
nurse's  arms,  exclaimed,  "O  mammy,  mammy!  what 
a  pleasant,  pleasant  day  I  have  had!  Papa  has  been 
so  kind,  and  so  were  Mr.  Travilla  and  his  mother." 

"I'se  berry  glad,  darlin',  an'  I  hope  you  gwine  hab 
many  more  such  days,"  replied  Chloe,  embracing  her 
fondly  and  then  proceeding  to  take  off  her  bonnet  and 
prepare  her  for  bed,  while  Elsie  gave  her  a  minute 
account  of  all  the  occurrences  of  the  day,  not  omitting 
the  fright  Mr.  Travilla  had  given  her,  and  how  hap 
pily  her  fears  had  been  relieved. 

"You  look  berry  happy,  my  darlin'  pet,"  said  Chloe, 
clasping  her  nursling  again  in  her  arms  when  her  task 
was  finished. 

"Yes,  mammy,  I  am  happy,  oh!  so  happy,  because 
I  do  believe  that  papa  is  beginning  to  love  me  a  lit- 


84  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

tie,  and  I  hope  that  perhaps,  after  a  while,  be  will  love 
me  very  much." 

The  tears  gathered  in  her  eyes  as  she  spoke. 

The  next  afternoon,  as  Elsie  was  returning  from  her 
walk,  she  met  her  father. 

"Elsie,"  said  he,  in  a  reproving  tone,  "I  have  for 
bidden  you  to  walk  out  alone ;  are  you  disobeying  me?" 

"No,  papa/"  she  replied  meekly,  raising  her  eyes  to 
his  face,  "I  was  not  alone  until  about  five  minutes  ago, 
when  Aunt  Adelaide  and  Louise  left  me.  They  said  it 
did  not  matter,  as  I  was  so  near  home ;  and  they  were 
going  to  make  a  call,  and  did  not  want  me  along." 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  taking  hold  of  her  hand  and 
making  her  walk  by  his  side.  "How  far  have  you 
been?" 

"We  went  down  the  river  bank  to  the  big  spring, 
papa.  I  believe  it  is  a  little  more  than  a  mile  that 
way;  but  when  we  came  home,  we  made  it  shorter  by 
coming  across  some  of  the  fields  and  through  the 
meadow." 

"Through  the  meadow  ?"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore ;  "don't 
you  go  there  again,  Elsie,  unless  I  give  you  express 
permission." 

"Why,  papa?"  she  asked,  looking  up  at  him  in  some 
surprise. 

"Because  I  forbid  it,"  he  replied  sternly;  "that  is 
quite  enough  for  you  to  know ;  all  you  have  to  do  is  to 
obey,  and  you  need  never  ask  me  why,  when  I  give  you 
an  order." 

Elsie's  eyes  filled,  and  a  big  tear  rolled  quickly  down 
her  cheek. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  85 

"I  did  not  mean  to  be  naughty,  papa/'  she  said, 
struggling  to  keep  down  a  sob,  "and  I  will  try  never 
to  ask  why  again." 

"There  is  another  thing,"  said  he.  "You  cry  quite 
too  easily ;  it  is  entirely  too  babyish  for  a  girl  of  your 
age;  you  must  quit  it." 

"I  will  try,  papa,"  said  the  little  girl,  wiping  her 
eyes,  and  making  a  great  effort  to  control  her  feelings. 

They  had  entered  the  avenue  while  this  conversation 
was  going  on,  and  were  now  drawing  near  the  house ; 
and  just  at  this  moment  a  little  girl  about  Elsie's  age 
came  running  to  meet  them,  exclaiming,  "O  Elsie !  I'm 
glad  you've  come  at  last.  We've  been  here  a  whole 
hour — mamma,  and  Herbert,  and  I — and  I've  been 
looking  for  you  all  this  time." 

"How  do  you  do,  Miss  Lucy  Carrington?  I  see  you 
can  talk  as  fast  as  ever,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore,  laugh 
ing,  and  holding  out  his  hand. 

Lucy  took  it,  saying  with  a  little  pout,  "To  be  sure, 
Mr.  Dinsmore,  it  isn't  more  than  two  or  three  weeks 
since  you  were  at  our  house,  and  I  wouldn't  forget 
how  to  talk  in  that  time."  Then,  looking  at  Elsie,  she 
went  on,  "We've  come  to  stay  a  week ;  won't  we  have 
a  fine  time  ?"  and,  catching  her  friend  round  the  waist, 
she  gave  her  a  hearty  squeeze. 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Elsie,  returning  the  embrace.  "I 
am  glad  you  have  come." 

"Is  your  papa  here,  Miss  Lucy?"  asked  Mr.  Dins- 
more. 

"Yes,  sir;  but  he's  going  home  again  to-night,  and 
then  he'll  come  back  for  us  next  week." 


86  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"I  must  go  in  and  speak  to  him,"  said  Mr.  Dins- 
more.  "Elsie,  do  you  entertain  Lucy." 

"Yes,  sir,  I  will,"  said  Elsie.  "Come  with  me  to  my 
room,  won't  you,  Lucy?" 

"Yes;  but  won't  you  speak  to  mamma  first?  and 
Herbert,  too;  you  are  such  a  favorite  with  both  of 
them;  and  they  still  are  in  the  dressing-room,  for 
mamma  is  not  very  well,  and  was  quite  fatigued  with 
her  ride." 

Lucy  led  the  way  to  her  mamma's  room,  as  she 
Spoke,  Elsie  following. 

"Ah!  Elsie  dear,  how  do  you  do?  I'm  delighted 
to  see  you,"  said  Mrs.  Carrington,  rising  from  the 
sofa  as  they  entered. 

Then,  drawing  the  little  girl  closer  to  her,  she  passed 
her  arm  affectionately  around  her  waist,  and  kissed  her 
several  times. 

"I  suppose  you  are  very  happy  now  that  your  papa 
has  come  home  at  last?"  she  said,  looking  searchingly 
into  Elsie's  face.  "I  remember  you  used  to  be  looking 
forward  so  to  his  return;  constantly  talking  of  it  and 
fonging  for  it." 

Poor  Elsie,  conscious  that  her  father's  presence  had 
not  brought  with  it  the  happiness  she  had  anticipated, 
and  yet  unwilling  either  to  acknowledge  that  fact  or 
tell  an  untruth,  was  at  a  loss  what  to  say. 

But  she  was  relieved  from  the  necessity  of  replying 
by  Herbert,  Lucy's  twin  brother,  a  pale,  sickly-looking 
boy,  who  had  for  several  years  been  a  sufferer  from 
hk>  complaint, 

"O  Elsie  1"  he  exclaimed,  catching  hold  of  her  hand 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  87 

and  squeezing  it  between  both  of  his,  "I'm  ever  so 
glad  to  see  you  again." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Carrington,  "Herbert  always  says 
nobody  can  tell  him  such  beautiful  stories  as  Elsie; 
and  nobody  but  his  mother  and  his  old  mammy  was 
half  so  kind  to  run  and  wait  on  him  when  he  was  laid 
on  his  back  for  so  many  weeks.  He  missed  you  very 
much  when  we  went  home,  and  often  wished  he  was 
at  Roselands  again." 

"How  is  your  hip  now,  Herbert?"  asked  Elsie,  look 
ing  pityingly  at  the  boy's  pale  face. 

"Oh !  a  great  deal  better,  thank  you.  I  can  take  quite 
long  walks  sometimes  now,  though  I  still  limp,  and 
cannot  run  and  leap  like  other  boys." 

They  chatted  a  few  moments  longer,  and  then  Elsie 
went  to  her  room  to  have  her  hat  taken  off,  and  her 
hair  made  smooth  before  the  tea-bell  should  ring. 

The  two  little  girls  were  seated  together  at  the  table, 
Elsie's  papa  being  on  her  other  side. 

"How  nice  these  muffins  are !  Don't  you  like  them, 
Elsie?"  asked  Lucy,  as  she  helped  herself  to  a  third  or 
fourth. 

"Yes,  very  much,"  said  Elsie,  cheerfully. 

"Then  what  are  you  eating  that  cold  bread  for  ?  and 
you  haven't  got  any  butter,  either.  Pompey,  why  don't 
hand  Miss  Elsie  the  butter?" 

"No,  Lucy,  I  mustn't  have  it.  Papa  does  not  allow 
me  to  eat  hot  cakes  or  butter,"  said  Elsie,  in  the  same 
cheerful  tone  in  which  she  had  spoken  before. 

Lucy  opened  her  eyes  very  wide,  and  -drew  in  her 
breath. 


88  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"Well/'  she  exclaimed,  "I  guess  if  my  papa  should 
try  that  on  me,  I'd  make  such  a  fuss  he'd  have  to  let 
me  eat  just  whatever  I  wanted." 

"Elsie  knows  better  than  to  do  that,"  said  Mr.  Dins- 
more,  who  had  overheard  the  conversation ;  "she 
would  only  get  sent  away  from  the  table  and  punished 
for  her  naughtiness." 

"I  wouldn't  do  it  anyhow,  papa,"  said  Elsie,  raising 
her  eyes  beseechingly  to  his  face. 

"No,  daughter,  I  don't  believe  you  would,"  he  re 
plied  in  an  unsually  kind  tone,  and  Elsie's  face  flushed 
with  pleasure. 

Several  days  passed  away  very  pleasantly,  Lucy 
sharing  Elsie's  studies  in  the  mornings,  while  Herbert 
remained  with  his  mamma;  and  then  in  the  afternoon 
all  walking  or  riding  out  together,  unless  the  weather 
was  too  warm,  when  they  spent  the  afternoon  playing 
in  the  veranda,  on  the  shady  side  of  the  house,  and 
took  their  ride  or  walk  after  the  sun  was  down. 

Arthur  and  Walter  paid  but  little  attention  to  Her 
bert,  as  his  lameness  prevented  him  from  sharing  in  the 
active  sports  which  they  preferred ;  for  they  had  never 
been  taught  to  yield  their  wishes  to  others,  and  were 
consequently  extremely  selfish  and  overbearing;  but 
Elsie  was  very  kind,  and  did  all  in  her  power  to  inter 
est  and  amuse  him. 

One  afternoon  they  all  walked  out  together,  attended 
by  Jim;  but  Arthur  and  Walter,  unwilling  to  accom 
modate  their  pace  to  Herbert's  slow  movements,  were 
soon  far  in  advance,  Jim  following  close  at  their  heels. 

"They're  quite  out  of  sight,"  said  Herbert  presently, 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  89 

"and  I'm  very  tired.  Let's  sit  down  on  this  bank, 
girls;  I  want  to  try  my  new  bow,  and  you  may  run 
and  pick  up  my  arrows  for  me." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Lucy,  laughing;  "Elsie  may 
do  it  if  she  likes,  but  as  for  me,  I  mean  to  take  a  nap  ; 
this  nice,  soft  grass  will  make  an  elegant  couch ;"  and 
throwing  herself  down,  she  soon  was,  or  pretended  to 
be,  in  a  sound  slumber;  while  Herbert,  seating  him 
self  with  his  back  against  a  tree,  amused  himself  with 
shooting  his  arrows  here  and  there,  Elsie  running  for 
them  and  bringing  them  to  him,  until  she  was  quite 
heated  and  out  of  breath. 

"Now  I  must  rest  a  little,  Herbert,"  she  said  at 
length,  sitting  down  beside  him.  "Shall  I  tell  you  a 
story?" 

"Oh!  yes,  do;  I  like  your  stories,  and  I  don't  mind 
leaving  off  shooting  till  you're  done,"  said  he,  laying 
down  his  bow. 

Elsie's  story  lasted  about  ten  minutes,  and  when  she 
had  finished,  Herbert  took  up  his  bow  again,  saying, 
"I  guess  you're  rested  now,  Elsie,"  and  sent  an  arrow 
over  into  the  meadow. 

"There !  just  see  how  far  I  sent  that !  do  run  and 
bring  it  to  me,  Elsie!"  he  cried,  "and  let  me  see  if  I 
can't  hit  that  tree  next  time;  I've  but  just  missed  it." 

"I'm  tired,  Herbert ;  but  I'll  run  and  bring  it  to  you 
this  once,"  replied  Elsie,  forgetting  entirely  her  father's 
prohibition;  "but  then  you  must  try  to  wait  until  Jim 
comes  back  before  you  shoot  any  more." 

So  saying,  she  darted  away,  and  came  back  in  a  mo 
ment  with  the  arrow  in  her  hand.  But  a  sudden  recoK 


90  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

lection  had  come  over  her  just  as  she  left  the  meadow, 
and  throwing  down  the  arrow  at  the  boy's  feet,  she  ex 
claimed  in  an  agitated  tone,  "O  Herbert!  I  must  go 
home  just  as  quickly  as  I  can;  I  had  forgotten — oh! 
how  could  I  forget!  oh!  what  will  papa  say!" 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?"  asked  Herbert  in  alarm, 

"Never  mind,"  said  Elsie,  sobbing.  "There  are  the 
boys  coming ;  they  will  take  care  of  youf  and  I  must  go 
home.  Good-bye." 

And  she  ran  quickly  up  the  road,  Herbert  following 
her  retreating  form  with  wondering  eyes. 

Elsie  sped  onward,  crying  bitterly  as  she  went 

"Where  is  papa!"  she  inquired  of  a  servant  whom 
she  met  in  the  avenue. 

"Dunno,  Miss  Elsie,  but  I  reckon  Massa  Horace  am 
in  de  house,  kase  his  horse  am  in  de  stable." 

Elsie  hardly  waited  for  the  answer,  but  hurrying 
into  the  house,  went  from  room  to  room,  looking  and 
asking  in  vain  for  her  father.  He  was  not  in  the  draw 
ing-room,  or  the  library,  or  his  own  apartments.  She 
had  just  come  out  of  this,  and  meeting  a  chamber-maid 
in  the  hall,  she  exclaimed,  "O  Fanny!  where  is  papa? 
can't  you  tell  me  ?  for  I  must  see  him." 

"Here  I  am,  Elsie ;  what  do  you  want  with  me  ?" 
called  out  her  father's  voice  from  the  veranda,  where 
she  had  neglected  to  look. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  repeated,  as  his  little  girl 
appeared  before  him  with  her  flushed  and  tearful  face. 
Elsie  moved  slowly  toward  him,  with  a  timid  air  and 
downcast  eyes. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  91 

"I  wanted  to  tell  you  something,  papa/'  she  said  in 
a  low,  tremulous  tone. 

"Well,  I  am  listening,"  said  he,  taking  hold  of  her 
hand  and  drawing  her  to  his  side.  "What  is  it  ?  are  you 
sick  or  hurt  ?" 

"No,  papa,  not  either;  but — but,  O  papa!  I  have 
been  a  very  naughty  girl,"  she  exclaimed,  bursting  into 
tears,  and  sobbing  violently.  "I  disobeyed  you,  papa. 
I — I  have  been  in  the  meadow." 

"Is  it  possible !  Would  you  dare  to  do  so  when  I  so 
positively  forbade  it  only  the  other  day?"  he  said  in  his 
sternest  tone,  while  a  dark  frown  gathered  on  his  brow. 
"Elsie,  I  shall  have  to  punish  you." 

"I  did  not  intend  to  disobey  you,  papa,"  she  sobbed  ; 
"I  quite  forgot  that  you  had  forbidden  me  to  go  there." 

"That  is  no  excuse,  no  excuse  at  all,"  said  he  severe 
ly;  "You  must  remember  my  commands;  and  if  your 
memory  is  so  poor  I  shall  find  means  to  strengthen  it." 

He  paused  a  moment,  still  looking  sternly  at  the 
little,  trembling,  sobbing  girl  at  his  side;  then  asked, 
"What  were  you  doing  in  the  meadow?  tell  me  the 
whole  story,  that  I  may  understand  just  how  severely 
I  ought  to  punish  you." 

Elsie  gave  him  all  the  particulars;  and  when,  upon 
questioning  her  closely,  he  perceived  how  entirely  vol 
untary  her  confession  had  been,  his  tone  and  manner 
became  less  stern,  and  he  said  quite  mildly,  "Well, 
Elsie,  I  shall  not  be  very  severe  with  you  this  time,  as 
you  seem  to  be  very  penitent,  and  have  made  so  full 
and  frank  a  confession;  but  beware  how  you  disobey 
me  again,  for  you  will  not  escape  so  easily  another 


92  ELSIE  DINSMORE 

time;  and  remember  I  will  not  take  forgetfulness  as 
any  excuse.  Go  now  to  Aunt  Chloe,  and  tell  her  from 
me  that  she  is  to  put  you  immediately  to  bed." 

"It  is  only  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  papa/y  said 
Elsie,  deprecatingly. 

"If  it  were  much  earlier,  Elsie,  it  would  make  no 
difference ;  you  must  go  at  once  to  your  bed,  and  stay 
there  until  to-morrow  morning." 

"What  will  Lucy  and  Herbert  think  when  they  come 
in  and  can't  find  me,  papa?"  she  said,  weeping  afresh, 

"You  should  have  thought  of  that  before  you  dis 
obeyed  me,"  he  answered  very  gravely.  "If  you  are 
hungry,"  he  added,  "you  may  ask  Chloe  to  get  you  a 
slice  of  bread  or  a  cracker  for  your  supper,  but  you 
can  have  nothing  else." 

Elsie  lingered,  looking  timidly  up  into  h\s  face  as 
though  wanting  to  say  something,  but  atraid  to  ven 
ture. 

"Speak,  Elsie,  if  you  have  anything  more  to  say/' 
he  said  encouragingly. 

"Dear  papa,  I  am  so  sorry  I  have  been  so  naughty," 
she  murmured,  leaning  her  head  against  the  arm  of  his 
chair,  while  the  tears  rolled  fast  down  her  cheeks; 
"won't  you  please  forgive  me,  papa?  it  seems  to  me  I 
can't  go  to  sleep  to-night  if  you  are  angry  with  me." 

He  seemed  quite  touched  by  her  penitence.  "Yes, 
Elsie,"  he  said,  "I  do  forgive  you.  I  am  not  at  all 
angry  with  you  now,  and  you  may  go  to  sleep  in  peace. 
Good  night,  my  little  daughter,"  and  he  bent  down  and 
pressed  his  lips  to  her  brow. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  93 

Elsie  held  up  her  face  for  another,  and  he  kissed  her 
lips. 

"Good  night,  dear  papa,"  she  said,  "I  hope  I  shall 
never  be  such  a  naughty  girl  again."  And  she  went  to 
her  room,  made  almost  happy  by  that  kiss  of  forgive 
ness. 

Elsie  was  up  quite  early  the  next  morning  and  had 
learned  all  her  lessons  before  breakfast.  As  she  came 
down  the  stairs  she  saw,  through  the  open  door,  her 
papa  standing  with  some  of  the  men-servants,  appar 
ently  gazing  at  some  object  lying  on  the  ground.  She 
ran  out  and  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  portico,  looking 
at  them  and  wondering  what  they  were  doing. 

Presently  her  father  turned  round,  and  seeing  her, 
held  out  his  hand,  calling,  "Come  here,  Elsie." 

She  sprang  quickly  down  the  steps,  and  running  to 
him,  put  her  hand  in  his,  saying,  "Good  morning, 
papa." 

"Good  morning,  daughter,"  said  he,  "I  have  some 
thing  to  show  you." 

And  leading  her  forward  a  few  paces,  he  pointed  to 
a,  large  rattlesnake  lying  there. 

"O  papa!"  she  cried,  starting  back  and  clinging  to 
him. 

"It  will  not  hurt  you  now,"  he  said ;  "it  is  dead ;  the 
men  killed  it  this  morning  in  the  meadow.  Do  you  see 
now  why  I  forbade  you  to  go  there?" 

"O  papa  !"  she  murmured,  in  a  low  tone  of  deep  feel* 
ing,  laying  her  cheek  affectionately  against  his  hand, 
"I  might  have  lost  my  life  by  my  disobedience.  How 


94  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

good  God  was  to  take  care  of  me !  Oh !  I  hope  I  shall 
never  be  so  naughty  again." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  he  gravely,  but  not  unkindly; 
"and  I  hope  that  you  will  always,  after  this,  believe  that 
your  father  has  some  good  reason  for  his  commands, 
even  although  he  may  not  choose  to  explain  it  to  you." 

"Yes,  papa,  I  think  I  will,"  she  answered,  humbly. 

The  breakfast-bell  had  rung,  and  he  now  led  her  in 
and  seated  her  at  the  table. 

Lucy  Carrington  looked  curiously  at  her,  and  soon 
took  an  opportunity  to  whisper,  "Where  were  you  last 
night,  Elsie?  I  couldn't  find  you,  and  your  papa 
wouldn't  say  what  had  become  of  you,  though  I  am 
quite  sure  he  knew." 

"I'll  tell  you  after  breakfast,"  replied  Elsie,  blushing 
deeply. 

Lucy  waited  rather  impatiently  until  all  had  risen 
from  the  table,  and  then,  putting  her  arm  round  Elsie's 
waist,  she  drew  her  out  on  to  the  veranda,  saying, 
"now,  Elsie,  tell  me ;  you  know  you  promised." 

"I  was  in  bed,"  replied  Elsie,  dropping  her  eyes, 
while  the  color  mounted  to  her  very  hair. 

"In  bed!  before  five  o'clock!"  exclaimed  Lucy  in  a 
tone  of  astonishment.  "Why,  what  was  that  for?" 

"Papa  sent  me,"  replied  Elsie,  with  an  effort.  "I 
had  been  naughty,  and  disobeyed  him." 

"Why,  how  strange!  Do  tell  me  what  you  had 
done!"  exclaimed  Lucy,  with  a  face  full  of  curiosity. 

"Papa  had  forbidden  me  to  go  into  the  meadow, 
$nd  I  forgot  all  about  it,  and  ran  in  there  to  get  Her* 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  95 

bert's  arrow  for  him,"  replied  Elsie,  looking  very 
much  ashamed. 

"Was  that  all?  why  my  papa  wouldn't  have  pun 
ished  me  for  that,"  said  Lucy.  "He  might  have  scolded 
me  a  little  if  I  had  done  it  on  purpose,  but  if  I  had  told 
him  I  had  forgotten,  he  would  only  have  said,  'You 
must  remember  better  next  time/  ': 

"Papa  says  that  forgetfulness  is  no  excuse;  that  I 
am  to  remember  his  commands,  and  if  I  forget,  he  will 
have  to  punish  me,  to  make  me  remember  better  next 
time,"  said  Elsie. 

"He  must  be  very  strict  indeed;  I'm  glad  he  is  not 
my  papa,"  replied  Lucy,  in  a  tone  of  great  satisfaction. 

"Come,  little  girls,  make  haste  and  get  ready;  we 
are  to  start  in  half  an  hour,"  said  Adelaide  Dinsmore, 
calling  to  them  from  the  hall  door. 

The  whole  family,  old  and  young,  including  visitors, 
were  on  that  day  to  go  on  a  picnic  up  the  river,  taking 
their  dinner  along,  and  spending  the  day  in  the  woods. 
They  had  been  planning  this  excursion  for  several  days, 
and  the  children  especially  had  been  looking  forward  to 
it  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure. 

"Am  I  to  go,  Aunt  Adelaide?  did  papa  say  so?" 
asked  Elsie  anxiously,  as  she  and  Lucy  hastened  to 
obey  the  summons. 

"I  presume  you  are  to  go  of  course,  Elsie ;  we  have 
been  discussing  the  matter  for  the  last  three  days, 
always  taking  it  for  granted  that  you  were  to  make  one 
of  the  party,  and  he  has  never  said  you  should  not," 
replied  Adelaide,  good-naturedly;  "so  make  haste,  or 
you  will  be  too  late.  But  here  conies  your  papa  now/5 


96  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

she  added,  as  the  library  door  opened,  and  Mr.  Dins- 
more  stepped  out  into  the  hall  where  they  were  stand 
ing. 

"Horace,  Elsie  is  to  go  oi  course  ?* 

"I  do  not  see  the  of  course,  Adelaide,"  said  he 
dryly.  "No ;  Elsie  is  not  to  go ;  she  must  stay  at  home 
and  attend  to  her  lessons  as  usual." 

A  look  of  keen  disappointment  came  over  Elsie's 
face,  but  she  turned  away  without  a  word  and  went  up 
stairs  ;  while  Lucy,  casting  a  look  of  wrathful  indigna 
tion  at  Mr.  Dinsmore,  ran  after  her,  and  following  her 
into  her  room,  she  put  her  arm  round  her  neck,  saying, 
"Never  mind,  Elsie ;  it's  too  bad,  and  I  wouldn't  bear  it. 
I'd  go  in  spite  of  him." 

"No,  no,  Lucy,  I  must  obey  my  father ;  God  says  so ; 
and  besides,  I  couldn't  do  that  if  I  wanted  to,  for  papa 
is  stronger  than  I  am,  and  would  punish  me  severely 
if  I  were  to  attempt  such  a  thing,"  replied  Elsie  hastily, 
brushing  away  a  tear  that  would  come  into  her  eye. 

"Then  I'd  coax  him,"  said  Lucy.  "Come,  I'll  go 
with  you,  and  we  will  both  try." 

"No,"  replied  Elsie,  with  a  hopeless  shake  of  the 
head,  "I  have  found  out  already  that  my  papa  never 
breaks  his  word ;  and  nothing  could  induce  him  to  let 
me  go,  now  that  he  has  once  said  I  should  not.  But 
you  will  have  to  leave  me,  Lucy,  or  you  will  be  too 
late." 

"Good-bye,  then,"  said  Lucy,  turning  to  go;  "but 
I  think  it  is  a  great  shame,  and  I  sha'n't  half  enjoy 
myself  without  you." 

"Well  now.  Horace,  I  think  you  might  let  the  child 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  97 

go,"  was  Adelaide's  somewhat  indignant  rejoinder  to 
her  brother,  as  the  two  little  girls  disappeared;  "I 
can't  conceive  what  reason  you  can  have  for  keeping 
her  at  home,  and  she  looks  so  terribly  disappointed. 
Indeed,  Horace,  I  am  sometimes  half  inclined  to  think 
you  take  pleasure  in  thwarting  that  child." 

"You  had  better  call  me  a  tyrant  at  once,  Adelaide," 
said  he  angrily,  and  turning  very  red ;  "but  I  must  beg 
to  be  permitted  to  manage  my  own  child  in  my  own 
way ;  and  I  cannot  see  that  I  am  under  any  obligation 
to  give  my  reasons  either  to  you  or  to  any  one  else." 

"Well,  if  you  did  not  intend  to  let  her  go,  I  think 
you  might  have  said  so  at  first,  and  not  left  the  poor 
child  to  build  her  hopes  upon  it,  only  to  be  disap 
pointed.  I  must  say  I  think  it  was  cruel." 

"Until  this  morning,  Adelaide,"  he  replied,  "I  did 
intend  to  let  her  go,  for  I  expected  to  go  myself ;  but  I 
find  I  shall  not  be  able  to  do  so,  as  I  must  meet  a  gen 
tleman  on  business ;  and  as  I  know  that  accidents  fre 
quently  occur  to  such  pleasure  parties,  I  don't  feel 
willing  to  let  Elsie  go,  unless  I  could  be  there  myself  to 
take  care  of  her.  Whether  you  believe  it  or  not,  it  is 
really  regard  for  my  child's  safety,  and  not  cruelty, 
that  leads  me  to  refuse  her  this  gratification." 

"You  are  full  of  notions  about  that  child,  Horace," 
said  Adelaide,  a  little  impatiently.  "I'm  sure  some  of 
the  rest  of  us  could  take  care  of  her." 

"No ;  in  case  of  accident  you  would  all  have  enough 
to  do  to  take  care  of  yourselves,  and  I  shall  not  think 
of  trusting  Elsie  in  the  company,  since  I  cannot  be 


98  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

there  myself,"  he  answered  decidedly;  and  Adelaide, 
seeing  he  was  not  to  be  moved  from  his  determination, 
gav  up  the  attempt,  and  left  the  room  to  prepare  for 
her  ride. 

It  was  a  great  disappointment  to  Elsie,  and  for  a  few 
moments  her  heart  rose  up  in  rebellion  against  her 
father.  She  tried  to  put  away  the  feeling,  but  it  would 
come  back;  for  she  could  not  imagine  any  reason  for 
his  refusal  to  let  her  go,  excepting  the  disobedience  of 
the  day  before,  and  it  seemed  hard  and  unjust  to  pun 
ish  her  twice  for  the  same  fault,  especially  as  he  would 
have  known  nothing  about  it  but  for  her  own  frank 
and  voluntary  confession.  It  was  a  great  pity  she  had 
not  heard  the  reasons  he  gave  her  Aunt  Adelaide,  for 
then  she  would  have  been  quite  submissive  and  con 
tent.  It  is  indeed  true  that  she  ought  to  have  been  as 
it  was;  but  our  little  Elsie,  though  sincerely  desirous 
to  do  right,  was  not  yet  perfect,  and  had  already 
strangely  forgotten  the  lesson  of  the  morning. 

She  watched  from  the  veranda  the  departure  of  the 
pleasure-seekers,  all  apparently  in  the  gayest  spirits. 
She  was  surprised  to  see  that  her  father  was  not  with 
them,  and  it  half  reconciled  her  to  staying  at  home,  al 
though  she  hardly  expected  to  see  much  of  him;  but 
there  was  something  pleasant  in  the  thought  that  he 
wanted  her  at  home  because  he  was  to  be  there  him 
self ;  it  looked  as  though  he  really  had  some  affection 
for  her,  and  even  a  selfish  love  was  better  than  none. 
I  do  not  mean  that  these  were  Elsie's  thoughts ;  no,  she 
never  would  have  dreamed  of  calling  her  lather  selfish; 
but  the  undefined  feeling  was  there,  as  she  watched 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  99 

him  hand  the  ladies  into  the  carriage,  and  then  turn 
and  reenter  the  house  as  they  drove  off. 

But  Miss  Day's  bell  rang,  and  Elsie  gathered  up  her 
books  and  hastened  to  the  school-room.  Her  patience 
and  endurance  were  sorely  tried  that  morning,  for 
Miss  Day  was  in  an  exceedingly  bad  humor,  being 
greatly  mortified  and  also  highly  indignant  that  she  had 
not  been  incited  to  make  one  of  the  picnic  party ;  and 
Elsie  had  never  found  her  more  unreasonable  and  dif 
ficult  to  please;  and  her  incessant  fault-finding  and 
scolding  were  almost  more  than  the  little  girl  could 
bear  in  addition  to  her  own  sad  disappointment.  But 
at  last  the  morning,  which  had  seldom  seemed  so  long, 
was  over,  and  Elsie  dismissed  from  the  school-room 
for  the  day. 

At  dinner,  instead  of  the  usual  large  party,  there 
were  only  her  father  and  the  gentleman  with  whom  he 
was  transacting  business,  Miss  Day,  and  herself. 

The  gentleman  was  not  one  of  those  who  care  to 
notice  children,  but  continued  to  discuss  business  and 
politics  with  Mr.  Dinsmore,  without  seeming  to  be  in 
the  least  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  little  girl,  who 
sat  in  perfect  silence,  eating  whatever  her  father  saw  fit 
to  put  upon  her  plate ;  and  Elsie  was  very  glad  indeed 
when  at  length  Miss  Day  rose  to  leave  the  table,  and 
her  papa  told  her  she  might  go  too. 

He  called  her  back  though,  before  she  had  gone 
across  the  room,  to  say  that  he  had  intended  to  ride 
with  her  that  afternoon,  but  found  he  should  not  be 
able  to  do  sc,  and  she  must  take  Jim  for  a  protector, 


loo  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

as  he  did  not  wish  her  either  to  miss  her  ride  or  to  go 
entirely  alone. 

He  spoke  very  kindly;  Elsie  thought  with  remorse 
of  the  rebellious  feelings  of  the  morning,  and,  had  she 
been  alone  with  her  father,  would  certainly  have  con 
fessed  them,  expressing  her  sorrow  and  asking  forgive 
ness;  but  she  could  not  do  so  before  a  third  person, 
more  especially  a  stranger;  and  merely  saying,  "Yes, 
papa,  I  will,"  she  turned  away  and  left  the  room.  Jim 
was  bringing  up  her  horse  as  she  passed  the  open  door, 
and  she  hastened  up-stairs  to  prepare  for  her  ride. 

"O  mammy !"  she  suddenly  exclaimed,  as  Chloe  was 
trying  on  her  hat,  "is  Pomp  going  to  the  city  to-day  ?" 

"Yes,  darlin',  he  gwine  start  directly,"  said  Chloe, 
arranging  her  nursling's  curls  to  better  advantage,  and 
finishing  her  work  with  a  fond  caress. 

"Oh!  then,  mammy,  take  some  money  out  of  my 
purse,  and  tell  him  to  buy  me  a  pound  of  the  very 
nicest  candy  he  can  find,"  said  the  little  girl,  eagerly. 
"I  haven't  had  any  for  a  long  time,  and  I  feel  hungry 
for  it  to-day.  What  they  had  bought  for  the  picnic 
looked  so  good,  but  you  know  I  didn't  get  any  of  it." 

The  picnic  party  returned  just  before  tea-time,  and 
Lucy  Carrington  rushed  into  Elsie's  room  eager  to 
tell  her  what  a  delightful  day  they  had  had.  She  gave 
a  very  glowing  account  of  their  sports  and  entertain 
ment,  interrupting  herself  every  now  and  then  to  la 
ment  over  Elsie's  absence,  assuring  her  again  and 
again  that  it  had  been  the  only  drawback  upon  her  own 
pleasure,  and  that  she  thought  that  Elsie's  papa  was 
very  unkind  indeed  to  refuse  her  permission  to  go. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  101 

As  Elsie  listened  the  morning's  feelings  of  vexation 
and  disappointment  returned  in  full  force ;  and  though 
she  said  nothing,  she  allowed  her  friend  to  accuse  her 
father  of  cruelty  and  injustice  without  offering  any  re 
monstrance. 

In  the  midst  of  their  talk  the  tea-bell  rang,  and  they 
hurried  down  to  take  their  places  at  the  table,  where 
Lucy  went  on  with  her  narrative,  though  in  a  rather 
subdued  tone,  Elsie  now  and  then  asking  a  question, 
until  Mr.  Dinsmore  turned  to  his  daughter,  saying,  in 
his  stern  way,  "Be  quiet,  Elsie;  you  are  talking  entirely 
too  much  for  a  child  of  your  age;  don't  let  me  hear 
you  speak  again  until  you  have  left  the  table." 

Elsie's  face  flushed,  and  her  eyes  fell,  under  the  re 
buke;  and  during  the  rest  of  the  meal  not  a  sound  es 
caped  her  lips. 

"Come,  Elsie,  let  us  go  into  the  garden  and  finish 
our  talk,"  said  Lucy,  putting  her  arm  affectionately 
around  her  friend's  waist  as  they  left  the  table;  "your 
papa  can't  hear  us  there,  and  we'll  have  a  good  time." 

"Papa  only  stopped  us  because  we  were  talking  too 
much  at  the  table,"  said  Elsie,  apologetically;  "I'm 
sure  he  is  willing  you  should  tell  me  all  about  what  a 
nice  time  you  all  had.  But,  Lucy,"  she  added,  lower 
ing  her  voice,  "please  don't  say  again  that  you  think 
papa  was  unkind  to  keep  me  at  home  to-day.  I'm  sure 
he  knows  best,  and  I  ought  not  to  have  listened  to  a 
word  of  that  kind  about  him." 

"O !  well,  never  mind,  I  won't  talk  so  any  more," 
said  Lucy,  good-naturedly,  as  they  skipped  down  the 
walk  together ;  "but  I  do  think  he's  cross,  and  I  wisb 


102  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

you  were  my  sister,  that  you  might  have  my  kind, 
good  papa  for  yours  too,"  she  added,  drawing  her  arm 
more  closely  about  her  friend's  waist. 

"Thank  you,  Lucy,"  said  Elsie,  with  a  little  sigh,  "I 
would  like  to  be  your  sister,  but  indeed  I  would  not 
like  to  give  up  my  own  dear  papa,  for  I  love  him,  oh ! 
so  much." 

"Why,  how  funny,  when  he's  so  cross  to  you!"  ex 
claimed  Lucy,  laughing. 

Elsie  put  her  hand  over  her  friend's  mouth,  and 
Lucy  pushed  it  away,  saying,  "Excuse  me;  I  forgot; 
but  I'll  try  not  to  say  it  again." 

While  the  little  girls  were  enjoying  their  talk  in  the 
garden,  a  servant  with  a  small  bundle  in  her  hand  came 
out  on  the  veranda,  where  Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore  was 
sitting  smoking  a  cigar,  and,  casting  an  inquiring 
glance  around,  asked  if  he  knew  where  Miss  Elsie 
was? 

"What  do  you  want  with  her  ?"  he  asked. 

"Only  to  give  her  dis  bundle,  massa,  dat  Pomp  jus 
brought  from  de  city." 

"Give  it  to  me,"  he  said,  extending  his  hand  to  re 
ceive  it. 

A  few  moments  afterward  Elsie  and  her  friend  re 
turned  to  the  house,  and  meeting  Pomp,  she  asked  him 
if  he  had  brought  her  candy. 

He  replied  that  he  had  got  some  that  was  very 
nice  indeed,  and  he  thought  that  Fanny  had  carried  it 
to  her ;  and  seeing  Fanny  near,  he  called  to  her  to  know 
what  she  had  done  with  it 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  103 

"Why,  Pomp,  Massa  Horace  he  told  me  to  give  it 
to  him,"  said  the  girl. 

Elsie  turned  away  with  a  very  disappointed  look. 

"You'll  go  and  ask  him  for  it,  won't  you?"  asked 
Lucyr  who  was  anxious  to  enjoy  a  share  of  the  candy 
as  well  as  to  see  Elsie  gratified. 

"No,"  said  Elsie,  sighing,  "I  had  rather  do  without 
it." 

Lucy  coaxed  for  a  little  while,  but  finding  it  impos 
sible  to  persuade  Elsie  to  approach  her  father  on  the 
subject,  finally  volunteered  to  do  the  errand  herself. 

Elsie  readily  consented,  and  Lucy,  trembling  a  little 
in  spite  of  her  boast  that  she  was  not  afraid  of  him, 
walked  out  on  to  the  veranda  where  Mr.  Diiismore  was 
still  sitting,  and  putting  on  an  air  of  great  confidence, 
said: 

"Mr.  Dinsmore,  will  you  please  to  give  me  Elsie's 
candy?  she  wants  it." 

"Did  Elsie  send  you  ?"  he  asked  in  a  cold,  grave  tone. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Lucy,  somewhat  frightened. 

"Then,  if  you  please,  Miss  Lucy,  you  may  tell  Elsie 
to  come  directly  to  me." 

Lucy  ran  back  to  her  friend,  and  Elsie  received  the 
message  in  some  trepidation,  but  as  no  choice  was  now 
left  her,  she  went  immediately  to  her  father. 

"Did  you  want  me,  papa?"  she  asked  timidly. 

"Yes,  Elsie;  I  wish  to  know  why  you  send  another 
person  to  me  for  what  you  want,  instead  of  coming 
yourself.  It  displeases  me  very  much,  and  you  may 
rest  assured  that  you  will  never  get  anything  that  you 
ask  for  in  that  way." 


104  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

Elsie  hung  her  head  in  silence. 

"Are  you  going  to  answer  me?"  he  asked,  in  his  se 
vere  tone.  "Why  did  you  send  Lucy  instead  of  com 
ing  yourself?" 

"I  was  afraid,  papa,"  she  whispered,  almost  under 
her  breath. 

"Afraid!  afraid  of  what?"  he  asked,  with  increas 
ing  displeasure. 

"Of  you,  papa,"  she  replied,  in  a  tone  so  low  that 
he  could  scarcely  catch  the  words,  although  he  bent 
down  his  ear  to  receive  her  reply. 

"If  I  were  a  drunken  brute,  in  the  habit  of  knock 
ing  you  about,  beating  and  abusing  you,  there  might 
be  some  reason  for  your  fear,  Elsie,"  he  said,  coloring 
with  anger ;  "but,  as  it  is,  I  see  no  excuse  for  it  at  all 
and  I  am  both  hurt  and  displeased  by  it." 

"I  am  very  sorry,  papa;  I  won't  do  so  again,"  she 
said,  tremblingly. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  and  then  she  asked  in  a 
timid  hesitating  way,  "Papa,  may  I  have  my  candy,  if 
you  please?" 

"No,  you  may  not,"  he  said  decidedly ;  "and  under 
stand  and  remember  that  I  positively  forbid  you  either 
to  buy  or  eat  anything  of  the  kind  again  without  my 
express  permission." 

Elsie's  eyes  filled,  and  she  had  a  hard  struggle  to 
keep  down  a  rising  sob  as  she  turned  away  and  went 
slowly  back  to  the  place  where  she  had  left  her  friend. 

"Have  you  got  it  ?"  asked  Lucy,  eagerly. 

Elsie  shook  her  head. 

"What    a    shame!"    exclaimed    Lucy,    indignantly' 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  105 

"he's  just  as  cross  as  he  can  be.  He's  a  tyrant,  so  he 
is!  just  a  hateful  old  tyrant,  and  I  wouldn't  care  a 
cent  for  him,  if  I  were  you,  Elsie.  I'm  glad  he  is  not 
my  father,  so  I  am." 

"I'm  afraid  he  doesn't  love  me  much,"  sighed  Elsie 
in  low,  tearful  tones,  "for  he  hardly  ever  lets  me  have 
anything,  or  go  anywhere  that  I  want  to." 

"Well,  never  mind,  I'll  send  and  buy  a  good  lot  to- 

[morrow,  and  we'll  have  a  regular  feast,"  said  Lucy, 

soothingly,  as  she  passed  her  arm  around  her  friend's 

waist  and  drew  her  down  to  a  seat  on  the  portico 

step. 

"Thank  you,  Lucy;  you  can  buy  for  yourself  if  you 
like,  but  not  for  me,  for  papa  has  forbidden  me  to  eat 
anything  of  the  sort." 

"Oh!  of  course  we'll  not  let  him  know  anything 
about  it,"  said  Lucy. 

But  Elsie  shook  her  head  sadly,  saying  with  a  little 
sigh,  "No,  Lucy,  you  are  very  kind,  but  I  cannot  dis 
obey  papa,  even  if  he  should  never  know  it,  because 
that  would  be  disobeying  God,  and  He  would  know  it." 

"Dear  me,  how  particular  you  are !"  exclaimed  Lucy 
a  little  pettishly. 

"Elsie,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore,  speaking  from  the  door, 
"what  are  you  doing  there?  Did  I  not  forbid  you  to 
be  out  in  the  evening  air  ?" 

"I  did  not  know  you  meant  the  doorstep,  papa.     I 
i thought  I  was  only  not  to  go  down  into  the  garden/' 
replied  the  little  girl,  rising  to  go  in. 
1     "I  see  you  intend  to  make  as  near  an  approach  to  dis 
obedience  as  you  dare,"  said  her  father.    "Go  imme- 


io6  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

diately  to  your  room,  and  tell  mammy  to  put  you  to 
bed." 

Elsie  silently  obeyed,  and  Lucy,  casting  an  indignant 
glance  at  Mr.  Dinsmore,  was  about  to  follow  her, 
when  he  said,  "I  wish  her  to  go  alone,  if  you  please, 
Miss  Lucy;"  and  with  a  frown  and  a  pout  the  little 
girl  walked  into  the  drawing-room  and  seated  herself 
on  the  sofa  beside  her  mamma. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  walked  out  on  to  the  portico,  and 
stood  there  watching  the  moon  which  was  just  rising 
over  the  treetops. 

"Horace,"  said  Arthur,  emerging  from  the  shadow 
of  a  tree  near  by  and  approaching  his  brother,  "Elsie 
thinks  you're  a  tyrant.  She  says  you  never  let  her 
have  anything,  or  go  anywhere,  and  you're  always  pun 
ishing  her.  She  and  Lucy  have  had  a  fine  time  out 
here  talking  over  your  bad  treatment  of  her,  and  plan 
ning  to  have  some  candy  in  spite  of  you." 

"Arthur,  I  do  not  believe  that  Elsie  would  deliber 
ately  plan  to  disobey  me ;  and  whatever  faults  she  may 
have,  I  am  very  sure  she  is  above  the  meanness  of  tell 
ing  tales,"  replied  Mr.  Dinsmore,  in  a  tone  of  severity, 
as  he  turned  and  went  into  the  house,  while  Arthur, 
looking  sadly  crestfallen,  crept  away  out  of  sight. 

When  Elsie  reached  her  room,  she  found  that  Chloe 
was  not  there;  for,  not  expecting  that  her  services 
would  be  required  at  so  early  an  hour,  she  had  gone 
down  to  the  kitchen  to  have  a  little  chat  with  her  fel« 
low-servants.  Elsie  rang  for  her,  and  then  walking  to 
the  window,  stood  looking  down  into  the  garden  in  an 
attitude  of  thought  fulness  and  dejection.  She  was 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  107 

mentally  taking  a  review  of  the  manner  in  which  she 
had  spent  the  day,  as  was  her  custom  before  retiring. 
The  retrospect  had  seldom  been  so  painful  to  the  lit 
tle  girl.  She  had  a  very  tender  conscience,  and  it 
told  her  now  that  she  had  more  than  once  during  the 
day  indulged  in  wrong  feelings  toward  her  father ;  that 
she  had  also  allowed  another  to  speak  disrespectfully 
of  him,  giving  by  her  silence  a  tacit  approval  of  the 
sentiments  uttered,  and,  more  than  that,  had  spoken 
complainingly  of  him  herself. 

"Oh !"  she  murmured  half  aloud  as  she  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands,  and  the  tears  trickled  through  her 
fingers,  "how  soon  I  have  forgotten  the  lesson  papa 
taught  me  this  morning,  and  my  promise  to  trust  him 
without  knowing  his  reasons.  I  don't  deserve  that  he 
should  love  me  or  be  kind  and  indulgent,  when  I  am 
so  rebellious." 

"What's  de  matter,  darlin'?"  asked  Chloe's  voice  to 
pitiful  tones,  as  she  took  her  nursling  in  her  arms  and 
laid  her  little  head  against  her  bosom,  passing  her 
hand  caressingly  over  the  soft  bright  curls ;  "your  ole 
mammy  can't  bear  to  see  her  pet  cryin'  like  dat." 

"O  mammy,  mammy!  I've  been  such  a  wicked  girl 
to-day !  Oh !  I'm  afraid  I  shall  never  be  good,  never 
be  like  Jesus.  I'm  afraid  He  is  angry  with  me,  for  I 
have  disobeyed  Him  to-day,"  sobbed  the  child. 

"Darlin',"  said  Chloe,  earnestly,  "didn't  you  read  to 
your  ole  mammy  dis  very  morning  dese  bressed  words : 
'If  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with  the  Father, 
Jesus  Christ  the  righteous/  an'  de  other :  'If  we  confess 
our  sins,  He  is  faithful  and  just  to  forgive  us  our 


io8  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

sins.'  Go  to  de  dear,  bresscd  Lord  Jesus,  darling  an' 
ax  Him  to  forgive  you,  an'  I  knows  He  will." 

"Yes,  He  will,"  replied  the  little  girl,  raising  her 
head  and  dashing  away  her  tears,  "He  will  forgive  my 
sins,  and  take  away  my  wicked  heart,  and  give  me 
right  thoughts  and  feelings.  How  glad  I  am  you  re 
membered  those  sweet  texts,  you  dear  old  mammy/' 
she  added,  twining  her  arms  lovingly  around  her 
nurse's  neck.  And  then  she  delivered  her  papa's  mes 
sage,  and  Chloe  began  at  once  to  prepare  her  for  bed. 

Elsie's  tears  had  ceased  to  flow,  but  they  were  still 
trembling  in  her  eyes,  and  the  little  face  wore  a  very 
sad  and  troubled  expression  as  she  stood  patiently  pas 
sive  in  her  nurse's  hands.  Chloe  had  soon  finished  her 
labors,  and  then  the  little  girl  opened  her  Bible,  and,  as 
usual,  read  a  few  verses  aloud,  though  her  voice  trem 
bled,  and  once  or  twice  a  tear  fell  on  the  page;  then 
closing  the  book  she  stole  away  to  the  side  of  the  bed 
and  knelt  down. 

She  was  a  good  while  on  her  knees,  and  several 
times,  as  the  sound  of  a  low  sob  fell  upon  Chloe's  ear, 
she  sighed  and  murmured  to  herself:  "Poor,  darlin'! 
dear,  bressed  lamb,  your  ole  mammy  don't  like  to  hear 
dat." 

Then  as  the  child  rose  from  her  kneeling  posture 
she  went  to  her,  and  taking  her  in  her  arms,  folded 
her  in  a  fond  embrace,  calling  her  by  the  most  tender 
and  endearing  epithets,  and  telling  her  that  her  old 
mammy  loved  her  better  than  life — better  than  any 
thing  in  the  wide  world. 

Elsie  flung  her  arms  around  her  nurse's  neck,  and 


ELSIE    DINSMORE  109 

laid  her  head  upon  her  bosom,  saying,  "Yes,  my  dear 
old  mammy,  I  know  you  love  me,  and  I  love  you,  too. 
But  put  me  in  bed  now,  or  papa  will  be  displeased." 

"What  makes  you  so  onrestless,  darlin'  ?"  asked 
Chloe,  half  an  hour  afterward;  "can't  you  go  to  sleep 
no  how?" 

"O  mammy!  if  I  could  only  see  papa  just  for  one 
moment  to  tell  him  something.  Do  you  think  he  would 
come  to  me?"  sighed  the  little  girl.  "Please,  mammy, 
go  down  and  see  if  he  is  busy.  Don't  say  a  word  if  he 
is;  but  if  not,  ask  him  to  come  to  me  for  just  one  min 
ute." 

Chloe  left  the  room  immediately,  but  returned  the 
next  moment,  saying,  "I  jes  looked  into  de  parlor,  dar- 
lin',  an'  Mass  Horace  he  mighty  busy  playin'  chess 
wid  Miss  Lucy's  mamma,  an'  I  didn't  say  nuffin'  to  him. 
Jes  you  go  sleep,  my  pet,  an'  tell  Mass  Horace  all  'bout 
it  in  de  mornin'." 

Elsie  sighed  deeply,  and  turning  over  on  her  pil 
low,  cried  herself  to  sleep. 

Chloe  was  just  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  the 
little  girl's  dress  the  next  morning,  when  Lucy  Car- 
rington  rapped  at  the  door. 

"Good  morning,  Elsie,"  she  said;  "I  was  in  a  hurry 
to  come  to  you,  because  it  is  my  last  day,  you  know. 
Wasn't  it  too  bad  of  your  father  to  send  you  off  to 
bed  so  early  last  night?" 

"No,  Lucy,  papa  has  a  right  to  send  me  to  bed  when 
ever  he  pleases;  and  besides,  I  was  naughty  and  de 
served  to  be  punished ;  and  it  was  not  much  more  than 
half  an  hour  earlier  than  my  usual  bedtime." 


no  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"You  naughty!"  exclaimed  Lucy,  opening  her  eyes 
very  wide.  "Mamma  often  says  she  wishes  I  was 
half  as  good." 

Elsie  sighed,  but  made  no  answer.  Her  thoughts 
seemed  far  away.  She  was  thinking  of  what  she  had 
been  so  anxious,  the  night  before,  to  say  to  her  father, 
and  trying  to  gain  courage  to  do  it  this  morning.  "If 
I  could  only  get  close  to  him  when  nobody  was  by,  and 
he  would  look  and  speak  kindly  to  me,  I  could  do  it 
then,"  she  murmured  to  herself. 

"Come,  Aunt  Chloe,  aren't  you  done?  I  want  to 
have  a  run  in  the  garden  before  breakfast,"  said 
Lucy,  somewhat  impatiently,  as  Chloe  tied  and  untied 
Elsie's  sash  several  times. 

"Well,  Miss  Lucy,  I'se  done  now,"  she  answered, 
passing  her  hand  once  more  over  her  nursling's  curls; 
"but  Mass  Horace  he  mighty  pertickler  'bout  Miss 
Elsie." 

"Yes,"  said  Elsie,  "papa  wants  me  always  to  look 
very  nice  and  neat ;  and  when  I  go  down  in  the  morn 
ing  he  just  gives  me  one  glance  from  head  to  foot, 
and  if  anything  is  wrong  he  is  sure  to  see  it  and  send 
me  back  immediately  to  have  it  made  right.  Now, 
mammy,  please  give  me  my  hat  and  let  us  go." 

"You's  got  plenty  ob  time,  chillens;  de  bell  won't 
go  for  to  ring  dis  hour,"  remarked  the  old  nurse,  tying 
on  Elsie's  hat. 

"My  chile  looks  sweet  an'  fresh  as  a  moss  rosebud 
dis  mornin',"  she  added,  talking  to  herself,  as  she 
watched  the  two  little  girls  tripping  down-stairs  hand 
in  hand. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  III 

They  skipped  up  and  down  the  avenue  several  times, 
and  ran  all  round  the  garden  before  it  was  time  to  go 
in.  Then  Elsie  went  up  to  Chloe  to  have  her  hair 
made  smooth  again.  She  was  just  descending  for  the 
second  time  to  the  hall,  where  she  had  left  Lucy,  when 
they  saw  a  carriage  drive  up  to  the  front  door. 

"There's  papa!"  cried  Lucy,  joyfully,  as  it  stopped 
and  a  gentleman  sprang  out  and  came  up  the  steps 
into  the  portico ;  and  in  an  instant  she  was  in  his  arms, 
receiving  such  kisses  and  caresses  as  Elsie  had  vainly 
longed  for  all  her  life. 

Lucy  had  several  brothers,  but  was  an  only  daugh 
ter,  and  a  very  great  pet,  especially  with  her  father. 

Elsie  watched  them  with  a  wistful  look  and  a  strange 
aching  at  her  heart. 

But  presently  Mr.  Carrington  set  Lucy  down  and 
turning  to  her,  gave  her  a  shake  of  the  hand,  and 
then  a  kiss,  saying,  "How  do  you  do  this  morning,  my 
dear?  I'm  afraid  you  are  hardly  glad  to  see  me,  as  I 
come  to  take  Lucy  away,  for  I  suppose  you  have  been 
having  fine  times  together." 

"Yes,  sir,  indeed  we  have;  and  I  hope  you  will  let 
her  come  again." 

"Oh!  yes,  certainly;  but  the  visits  must  not  be  all 
on  one  side.  I  shall  talk  to  your  papa  about  it,  and  per- 
haps  persuade  him  to  let  us  take  you  along  this  after 
noon  to  spend  a  week  at  Ashlands." 

"Oh!  how  delightful!"  cried  Lucy,  clapping  her 
hands.  "Elsie,  do  you  think  he  will  let  you  go?" 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  afraid  not,"  replied  the  little  girii 
doubtfully. 


Ii2  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"You  must  coax  him,  as  I  do  my  papa,"  said 

But  at  this  Elsie  only  shook  her  head,  and  just  the® 
the  breakfast-bell  rang. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  already  in  the  breakfast-rooms 
and  Elsie,  going  up  to  him,  said,  "Good  morning, 
papa." 

"Good  morning,  Elsie,"  he  replied,  but  his  tone  was 
50  cold  that  even  if  no  one  else  had  been  by,  she  could 
not  have  said  another  word. 

He  had  not  intended  to  be  influenced  by  the  informa 
tion  Arthur  had  so  maliciously  given  him  the  night  be* 
fore ;  yet  unconsciously  he  was,  and  his  manner  to  his 
little  daughter  was  many  degrees  colder  than  it  had 
been  for  some  time. 

After  breakfast  Lucy  reminded  Elsie  of  a  promise 
she  had  made  to  show  her  some  beautiful  shells  which 
her  father  had  collected  in  his  travels,  and  Elsie  led  the  ' 
way  to  the  cabinet,  a  small  room  opening  into  the  li 
brary,  and  filled  with  curiosities. 

They  had  gone  in  alone,  but  were  soon  followed  by 
Arthur,  Walter  and  Enna. 

Almost  everything  in  the  room  belonged  to  Mr. 
Horace  Dinsmore;  and  Elsie,  knowing  that  many  of 
the  articles  were  rare  and  costly,  and  that  he  was  very- 
careful  of  them,  begged  Enna  and  the  boys  to  go  out^ 
lest  they  should  accidentally  do  some  mischief. 

"I  won't,"  replied  Arthur,,  "I've  just  as  good  a 
tight  to  be  here  as  you." 

As  he  spoke  he  gave  her  a  push,  which  almost 
knocked  her  over,  and  in  catching  at  a  table  to  save 
herself  from  falling,  she  threw  down  a  beautiful  VASC 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  113 

of  rare  old  china,  which  Mr.  Dinsmore  prized  very 
highly.  It  fell  with  a  loud  crash,  and  lay  scattered  in 
fragments  at  their  feet. 

"There,  see  what  you've  done!"  exclaimed  Arthur, 
as  the  little  group  stood  aghast  at  the  mischief. 

It  happened  that  Mr.  Dinsmore  was  just  then  in  the 
library,  and  the  noise  soon  brought  him  upon  the  scene 
of  action. 

"Who  did  this?"  he  asked,  in  a  wrathful  tone,  look- 
Ing  from  one  to  the  other. 

"Elsie,"  said  Arthur ;  "she  threw  it  down  and  broke 
it." 

"Troublesome,  careless  child !  I  would  not  have  taken 
<a  hundred  dollars  for  that  vase,"  he  exclaimed.  "Go 
to  your  room !  go  this  instant,  and  stay  there  until  I 
send  for  you;  and  remember,  if  you  ever  come  in  here 
fcgain  without  permission  I  shall  punish  you." 

He  opened  the  door  as  he  spoke,  and  Elsie  flew 
across  the  hall,  up  the  stairs,  and  into  her  own  room, 
without  once  pausing  or  looking  back,, 

"Now  go  out,  every  one  of  you,  and  don't  come  in 
here  again;  this  is  no  place  for  children,"  said  Mr. 
Dinsmore,  turning  the  others  into  the  hall,  and  shutting 
and  locking  the  door  upon  them. 

''You  ought  to  be  ashamed,  Arthur  Dinsmore,"  ex 
claimed  Lucy  indignantly;  "it  was  all  your  own  fault, 
Und  Elsie  was  not  to  blame  at  all,  and  you  know  it/' 

"I  didn't  touch  the  old  vase,  and  I'm  not  going  to 
%*Jke  the  blame  of  it,  either,  I  can  tell  you,  miss,"  replied 
Arthur,  moving  off,  followed  by  Walter  and  EUR*, 


ELSIE  DINSMORE 

while  Lucy  walked  to  the  other  end  of  the  hall,  and 
stood  looking  out  of  the  window,  debating  in  her  own 
mind  whether  she  had  sufficient  courage  to  face  Mr. 
Dinsmore,  and  make  him  understand  where  the  blame 
of  the  accident  ought  to  lie. 

At  length  she  seemed  to  have  solved  the  question; 
for  turning  about  and  moving  noiselessly  down  the 
passage  to  the  library  door,  she  gave  a  timid  little  rap, 
which  was  immediately  answered  by  Mr.  Dinsmore's 
voice  saying,  "Come  in." 

Lucy  opened  the  door  and  walked  in,  closing  it 
after  her. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  sat  at  a  table  writing,  and  he  looked 
up  with  an  expression  of  mingled  surprise  and  impa 
tience. 

"What  do  you  want,  Miss  Lucy?"  he  said,  "speak 
quickly,  for  I  am  very  busy." 

"I  just  wanted  to  tell  you,  sir,"  replied  Lucy,  speak 
ing  up  quite  boldly,  "that  Elsie  was  not  at  all  to  blame 
about  the  vase ;  for  it  was  Arthur  who  pushed  her  and 
made  her  fall  against  the  table,  and  that  was  the  way 
the  vase  came  to  fall  and  break/' 

"What  made  him  push  her?"  he  asked. 

"Just  because  Elsie  asked  him,  and  Walter,  and  Ennft 
to  go  out,  for  fear  they  might  do  some  mischief." 

Mr.  Dinsmore's  pen  was  suspended  over  the  paper 
for  a  moment,  while  he  sat  thinking  with  a  somewhat 
clouded  brow;  but  presently  turning  to  the  little  girlj 
he  said  quite  pleasantly,  "Very  well,  Miss  Lucy,  I  am 
much  obliged  to  you  for  your  information,  for  I  should 
be  very  sorry  to  punish  Elsie  unjustly.  And  now  will 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  115 

do  me  the  favor  to  go  to  her  and  tell  her  that  her 
papa  says  she  need  not  stay  in  her  room  any  longer  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  will,"  replied  Lucy,  her  face  sparkling 
with  delight  as  she  hurried  off  with  great  alacrity  to  do 
his  bidding. 

She  found  Elsie  in  her  room  crying  violently,  and 
throwing  her  arms  around  her  neck  she  delivered  Mr. 
Dinsmore's  message,  concluding  with,  "So  now,  Elsie, 
you  see  you  needn't  cry,  nor  feel  sorry  any  more ;  but 
just  dry  your  eyes  and  let  us  go  down  into  the  garden 
and  have  a  good  time." 

Elsie  was  very  thankful  to  Lucy,  and  very  glad  that 
her  papa  now  knew  that  she  was  not  to  blame ;  but  she 
was  still  sorry  for  his  loss,  and  his  words  had  wounded 
her  too  deeply  to  be  immediately  forgotten ;  indeed  it 
was  some  time  before  the  sore  spot  they  had  made  in 
ber  heart  was  entirely  healed.  But  she  tried  to  for 
get  it  all  and  enter  heartily  into  the  sports  proposed  by 
Lucy. 

Th«  Carringtons  were  not  to  leave  until  the  after 
noon,  and  the  little  girls  spent  nearly  the  whole  morn 
ing  in  the  garden,  coming  into  the  drawing-room  a  few 
moments  before  the  dinner-bell  rang. 

Mrs.  Carrington  sat  on  a  sofa  engaged  with  some 
fancy  work,  while  Herbert,  who  had  not  felt  well 
enough  to  join  the  other  children,  had  stretched  him" 
self  out  beside  her,  putting  his  head  in  her  lap. 

Mr.  Carrington  and  Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore  were  con 
versing  near  by. 

Lucy  ran  up  to  her  papa  and  seated  herself  upon  his 
with  bfv  arm  around  his  neck ;  while  Elsie  stopped 


n6  ELSIE  DINSMORE 

a  moment  to  speak  to  Herbert,  and  then  timidly  ap 
proaching  her  father,  with  her  eyes  upon  the  floor,  sai& 
in  a  low,  half- frightened  tone,  that  reached  no  ear  tmt 
his,  "I  am  very  sorry  about  the  vase,  papa." 

He  took  her  hand,  and  drawing  her  close  to  hirr,0 
pushed  back  the  hair  from  her  forehead  with  his  othe* 
hand,  and  bending  down  to  her,  said  almost  in  a  whis 
per,  "Never  mind,  daughter,  we  will  forget  all  about 
it,  I  am  sorry  I  spoke  so  harshly  to  you,  since  Lucy 
tells  me  you  were  not  so  much  to  blame/' 

Elsie's  face  flushed  with  pleasure,  and  she  looked  up 
gratefully;  but  before  she  had  time  to  reply,  Mrs,  Car- 
rington  said,  "Elsie,  we  want  to  take  you  home  with 
us  to  spend  a  week;  will  you  go?" 

"I  should  like  to,  very  much,  indeed,  ma'am,  if  papa 
will  let  me,"  replied  the  little  girl,  looking  wistfully  up 
into  his  face. 

"Well,  Mr.  Dinsmore,  what  do  you  say?  I  hope  you 
can  have  no  objection,"  said  Mrs.  Carrington,  looking 
Inquiringly  at  him ;  while  her  husband  added,  "Oh !  yes, 
Dinsmore,  you  must  let  her  go  by  all  means;  you  can 
certainly  spare  her  for  a  week,  and  it  need  be  no  in 
terruption  to  her  lessons,  as  she  can  share  with  Lucy 
in  the  instructions  of  our  governess,  who  is  really  a 
superior  teacher." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  looking  very  grave,  and  Elsie 
knew  from  the  expression  of  his  countenance  what  his 
answer  would  be,  before  he  spoke.  He  had  noticed  the 
indignant  glance  Lucy  had  once  or  twice  bestowed 
upon  him,  and  remembering  Arthur's  report  of  the 
conversation  between  the  two  little  girls  the  night  be- 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  117 

fore,  had  decided  in  his  own  mind  that  the  less  Elsie 
saw  of  Lucy  the  better. 

"I  thank  you  both  for  your  kind  attention  to  my  lit 
tle  girl,"  he  replied  courteously,  "but  while  fully  appre 
ciating  your  kindness  in  extending  the  invitation,  I 
must  beg  leave  to  decline  it,  as  I  am  satisfied  that  home 
is  the  best  place  for  her  at  present." 

"Ah!  no,  I  suppose  we  ought  hardly  to  have  ex 
pected  you  to  spare  her  so  soon  after  your  return,"  said 
Mrs.  Carrington;  "but,  really,  I  am  very  sorry  to  be 
refused,  for  Elsie  is  such  a  good  child  that  I  am  al 
ways  delighted  to  have  Lucy  and  Herbert  with  her." 

"Perhaps  you  think  better  of  her  than  she  deserves, 
Mrs.  Carrington.  I  find  that  Elsie  is  sometimes 
naughty  and  in  need  of  correction,  as  well  as  other 
children,  and  therefore,  I  think  it  best  to  keep  her 
as  much  as  possible  under  my  own  eye,"  replied  Mr, 
Dinsmore,  looking  very  gravely  at  his  little  daughter  as 
he  spoke. 

Elsie's  face  flushed  painfully,  and  she  had  hard 
work  to  keep  from  bursting  into  tears.  It  was  a 
great  relief  to  her  that  just  at  that  moment  the  din 
ner-bell  rang,  and  there  was  a  general  movement  in 
the  direction  of  the  dining-room.  Her  look  was  touch- 
ingly  humble  as  her  father  led  her  in  and  seated  her  a£ 
the  table. 

She  was  thinking,  "Papa  says  I  am  naughty  some 
times,  but  oh !  how  very  naughty  he  would  think  me  It 
he  knew  all  the  wicked  feelings  I  had  yesterday.'9 

As  soon  as  they  had  risen  from  the  table,  Mrs,  Caw-- 


Ii8  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

rmgton  bade  Lucy  go  up  to  her  maid  to  have  her  bon 
net  put  on,  as  the  carriage  was  already  at  the  door. 

Elsie  would  have  gone  with  her,  but  her  father  had 
taken  her  hand  again,  and  he  held  it  fast. 

She  looked  up  inquiringly  into  his  face. 

"Stay  here,"  he  said.  "Lucy  will  be  down  again  in 
a  moment." 

And  Elsie  stood  quietly  at  his  side  until  Lucy  re 
turned. 

But  even  then  her  father  did  not  relinquish  his  hold 
of  her  hand,  and  all  the  talking  the  little  girls  could  do 
must  be  done  close  at  his  side. 

Yet,  as  he  was  engaged  in  earnest  conversation  with 
Mr.  Carrington,  and  did  not  seem  to  be  listening  to 
them,  Lucy  ventured  to  whisper  to  Elsie,  "I  think  it's 
real  mean  of  him ;  he  might  let  you  go." 

"No,"  replied  Elsie,  in  the  same  low  tone,  "I'm  sure 
papa  knows  best;  and  besides,  I  have  been  naughty, 
and  don't  deserve  to  go,  though  I  should  like  to, 
dearly." 

"Well,  good-bye,"  said  Lucy,  giving  her  a  kiss. 

It  was  not  until  Mr.  Carrington's  carriage  was  fairly 
on  its  way  down  the  avenue,  that  Mr.  Dinsmore 
dropped  his  little  girl's  hand ;  and  then  he  said,  "I  want 
you  in  the  library,  Elsie;  come  to  me  in  half  an  hour." 

"Yes,  papa,  I  will,"  she  replied,  looking  a  little 
frightened. 

"You  need  not  be  afraid,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  dis 
pleasure  ;  "I  am  not  going  to  hurt  you." 

Elsie  blushed  and  hung  her  head,  but  made  no  reply, 
Ijfed  he  turned  away  and  left  her.  She  could  not  help 


ELSIE  DINSMORE  119 

wondering  what  he  wanted  with  her,  and  though  she 
tried  not  to  feel  afraid,  it  was  impossible  to  keep  from 
trembling  a  little  as  she  knocked  at  the  library  door. 

Her  father's  voice  said,  "Come  in,"  and  entering, 
she  found  him  alone,  seated  at  a  table  covered  with 
papers  and  writing  materials,  while  beside  the  account 
book  in  which  he  was  writing  lay  a  pile  of  money,  ia 
bank  notes,  and  gold  and  silver. 

"Here,  Elsie,"  he  said,  laying  down  his  pen,  "I  want 
to  give  you  your  month's  allowance.  Your  grand 
father  has  paid  it  to  you  heretofore,  but  of  course, 
now  that  I  am  at  home,  I  attend  to  everything  that  con 
cerns  you.  You  have  been  receiving  eight  dollars — I 
shall  give  you  ten,"  and  he  counted  out  the  money  and 
laid  it  before  her  as  he  spoke;  "but  I  shall  require  a 
strict  account  of  all  that  you  spend.  I  want  you  to  learn 
to  keep  accounts,  for  if  you  live,  you  will  some  day 
have  a  great  deal  of  money  to  take  care  of;  and  here  is 
a  blank  book  that  I  have  prepared,  so  that  you  can  do  so 
very  easily.  Every  time  that  you  lay  out  or  give  away 
any  money,  you  must  set  it  down  here  as  soon  as  you 
come  home;  be  particular  about  that,  lest  you  should 
forget  something,  because  you  must  bring  your  book  to 
me  at  the  end  of  every  month,  and  let  me  see  how  much 
you  have  spent,  and  what  is  the  balance  in  hand ;  and  if 
you  are  not  able  to  make  it  come  out  square,  and  tell 
me  what  you  have  done  with  every  penny,  you  will 
lose  either  the  whole  or  a  part  of  your  allowance  for 
the  next  month,  according-  to  the  extent  of  your  delin 
quency.  Do  you  understand?'* 

"Yes,  sir." 


ELSIE  DINSMORE 

"Very  weJ(L  Let  me  see  now  how  much  you  **»«  iv 
member  of  your  last  month's  expenditures.  Take  the 
book  and  set  down  everything  you  can  think  of.'* 

Elsie  had  a  good  memory,  and  was  able  to  remen> 
ber  how  she  had  spent  almost  every  cent  during  the 
time  specified;  and  she  set  down  one  item  after  an 
other,  and  then  added  up  the  column  without  any  mis 
take. 

"That  was  very  well  done,"  said  her  father  approv 
ingly.  And  then  running  over  the  items  half  aloud, 
"Candy,  half  a  dollar;  remember,  Elsie,  there  is  to  be 
HO  more  money  disposed  of  in  that  way ;  not  as  a  mat 
ter  of  economy,  by  any  means,  but  because  I  consider 
is  very  injurious.  I  am  very  anxious  that  you  should 
grow  up  strong  and  healthy.  I  would  not  for  any 
thing  have  you  a  miserable  dyspeptic." 

Then  suddenly  closing  the  book  and  handing  it  to 
her,  he  said,  inquiringly,  "You  were  very  anxious  to 
goto  Ashlands?" 

"I  would  have  liked  to  go,  papa,  if  you  had  been 
willing,"  she  replied  meekly. 

"I  am  afraid  Lucy  is  not  a  suitable  companion  for 
you,  Elsie.  I  think  she  puts  bad  notions  into  your 
head,"  he  said  very  gravely. 

Elsie  flushed  and  trembled,  and  was  just  opening  her 
lips  to  make  her  confession,  when  the  door  opened  and 
her  grandfather  entered.  She  could  not  speak  before 
him,  and  so  remained  silent. 

"Does  she  not  sometimes  say  naughty  things  to 
you?"  asked  her  father,  speaking  so  low  that  her 
grandfather  could  not  have  heard. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  121 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  little  girl,  almost  under  her 
breath. 

"I  thought  so,"  said  he,  "'and  therefore  I  shall  keep 
you  apart  as  entirely  as  possible ;  and  I  hope  there  will 
be  no  murmuring  on  your  part." 

"No,  papa,  you  know  best,"  she  answered,  very  hum 
bly. 

Then,  putting  the  money  into  her  hands,  he  dismissed 
her.  When  she  had  gone  out  he  sat  for  a  moment  in 
deep  thought.  Elsie's  list  of  articles  bought;  with  her 
last  month's  allowance  consisted  almost  entirely  of 
gifts  for  others,  generally  the  servants.  There  were 
some  beads  and  sewing-silk  for  making  a  purse,  and  a 
few  drawing  materials;  but  with  the  exception  of  the 
candy,  she  had  bought  nothing  else  for  herself.  This 
was  what  her  father  was  thinking  of. 

"She  is  a  dear,  unselfish,  generous  little  thing,'*  he 
said  to  himself.  "However,  I  may  be  mistaken ;  I  must 
not  allow  myself  to  judge  from  only  one  month.  She 
seems  submissive,  too," — he  had  overheard  what  passed 
between  her  and  Lucy  at  parting — "but  perhaps  that 
was  for  effect;  she  probably  suspected  I  could  hear 
her — and  she  thinks  me  a  tyrant,  and  obeys  from  fear, 
not  love." 

This  thought  drove  away  all  the  tender  feeling  that 
had  been  creeping  into  his  heart;  and  when  he  next 
met  his  little  daughter,  his  manner  was  as  cold  and 
distant  as  ever,  and  Elsie  found  it  impossible  to  ap 
proach  him  with  sufficient  freedom  to  tell  him  what  was 
jn  her  heart. 


CHAPTER  FIFTH 

is  unjust,  but  God  is  just;  and  finally  justice 
Triumphs." 

— LONGFELLOW'S  Evangelme. 

"How  disappointment  tracks 
The  steps  of  hope!" 

— Miss  LANDON. 

ONE  afternoon,  the  next  week  after  the  Carring- 
tons  had  left,  the  younger  members  of  the  family, 
Arthur,  Elsie,  Walter  and  Enna,  were  setting  out  to 
take  a  walk,  when  Elsie,  seeing  a  gold  chain  depending 
from  the  pocket  of  Arthur's  jacket,  exclaimed : 

"O  Arthur!  how  could  you  take  grandpa's  watch? 
Do  put  it  away,  for  you  will  be  almost  sure  to  in 
jure  it." 

"Hold  your  tongue,  Elsie;  I'll  do  as  I  please,"  was 
the  polite  rejoinder. 

"But,  Arthur,  you  know  that  grandpa  would  never 
let  you  take  it.  I  have  often  heard  him  say  that  it  was 
very  valuable,  for  it  was  seldom  that  so  good  a  one 
could  be  had  at  any  price;  and  I  know  that  he  paid  a 
great  deal  for  it." 

"Well,  if  he  prizes  it  so,  he  needn't  have  left  it  lying 
on  his  table,  and  so  I'll  just  teach  him  a  lesson;  it's 
about  time  he  learnt  to  be  careful." 

122 


DINSMORE  123 

"Q  Arthur !  do  put  it  away,"  pleaded  Elsie,  "if  any 
thing  should  happen  to  it,  what  will  grandpa  say?  I 
know  he  will  be  very  angry,  and  ask  us  all  who  did  it ; 
and  you  know  I  cannot  tell  a  lie,  and  if  he  asks  me  if  it 
was  you,  I  cannot  say  no." 

"Yes,  I'll  trust  you  for  telling  tales,"  replied  Arthur, 
sneeringly ;  "but  if  you  do,  I'll  pay  you  for  it." 

He  ran  down  the  avenue  as  he  spoke,  Walter  and 
Enna  following,  and  Elsie  slowly  bringing  up  the  rear, 
looking  the  picture  of  distress,  for  she  knew  not  what 
to  do,  seeing  that  Arthur  would  not  listen  to  her  re 
monstrances,  and,  as  often  happened,  all  the  older 
members  of  the  family  were  out,  and  thus  there  was 
no  authority  that  could  be  appealed  to  in  time  to  pre 
vent  the  mischief  which  she  had  every  reason  to  fear 
would  be  done.  Once  she  thought  of  turning  back, 
that  she  might  escape  the  necessity  of  being  a  witness 
in  the  case ;  but,  remembering  that  her  father  told  her 
she  must  walk  with  the  others  that  afternoon,  and  also 
that,  as  she  had  already  seen  the  watch  in  Arthur's  pos 
session,  her  testimony  would  be  sufficient  to  convict 
him  even  if  she  saw  no  more,  she  gave  up  the  idea,  and 
hurried  on,  with  the  faint  hope  that  she  might  be  able 
to  induce  Arthur  to  refrain  from  indulging  in  such 
sports  as  would  be  likely  to  endanger  the  watch;  or 
else  to  give  it  into  her  charge.  At  any  other  time  she 
would  have  trembled  at  the  thought  of  touching  it ;  bufe 
now  she  felt  so  sure  it  would  be  safer  with  her  thai? 
with  him,  that  she  would  gladly  have  taken  the  respon* 
sibility. 

The  walk  was  far  from  beingr  a  pleasure  that  after 


124  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

noon ;  the  boys  ran  so  fast  that  it  quite  put  her  out  ol 
breath  to  keep  up  with  them;  and  then  every  little 
while  Arthur  would  cut  some  caper  that  made  her 
tremble  for  the  watch;  answering  her  entreaties  that 
he  would  either  give  it  into  her  care  or  walk  along 
quietly,  with  sneers  and  taunts,  and  declarations  of 
his  determination  to  do  just  exactly  as  he  pleased,  and 
not  be  ruled  by  her. 

But  at  length,  while  he  was  in  the  act  of  climbing 
a  tree,  the  watch  dropped  from  his  pocket  and  fell  to 
the  ground,  striking  with  considerable  force. 

Elsie  uttered  a  scream,  and  Arthur,  now  thoroughly 
frightened  himself,  jumped  down  and  picked  it  up. 

The  crystal  was  broken,  the  back  dented,  and  how 
much  the  works  were  injured  they  could  not  tell;  but 
it  had  ceased  to  run. 

"O  Arthur !  see  what  you've  done !"  exclaimed  Wal 
ter. 

"What  will  papa  say  ?"  said  Enna ;  while  Elsie  stood 
pale  and  trembling,  not  speaking  a  word. 

"You  hush!"  exclaimed  Arthur  fiercely.  'Til  tell 
you  what,  if  any  of  you  dire  to  tell  of  me,  I'll  make 
you  sorry  for  it  to  the  last  day  of  yuur  life.  Do  you 
hear?" 

The  question  was  addressed  to  Elsie  in  a  tone  of  de 
fiance. 

"Arthur,"  said  she,  "grandpa  will  know  that  some 
body  did  it,  and  surely  you  would  not  wish  an  innocent 
person  to  be  punished  for  your  fault" 

MI  don't  care  who  gets  punished,  so  that  papa  does 


ELSIE  DINSMORE  125 

not  find  out  that  I  did  it,"  said  he  furiously;  "and  if 
you  dare  to  tell  of  me,  I'll  pay  you  for  it." 

"I  shall  say  nothing,  unless  it  becomes  necessary  to 
save  the  innocent,  or  I  am  forced  to  speak ;  but  in  that 
case  I  shall  tell  the  truth,"  replied  Elsie,  firmly. 

Arthur  doubled  up  his  fist,  and  made  a  plunge  at  hei 
as  if  he  meant  to  knock  her  down ;  but  Elsie  sprang  be 
hind  the  tree,  and  then  ran  so  fleetly  toward  the  house 
that  he  was  not  able  to  overtake  her  until  his  passion 
had  had  time  to  cool. 

When  they  reached  the  house,  Arthur  replaced  the 
watch  on  his  father's  table,  whence  he  had  taken  it, 
and  then  they  all  awaited  his  return  with  what  cour« 
age  they  might. 

"I  say,  Wally,"  said  Arthur,  drawing  his  little 
brother  aside  and  speaking  in  a  low  tone,  having  first 
sent  a  cautious  glance  around  to  assure  himself  that 
no  one  else  was  within  hearing;  "I  say,  what  would 
you  give  me  for  that  new  riding  whip  of  mine?" 

"O  Arthur !  anything  I've  got,"  exclaimed  the  little 
boy  eagerly.  "But  you  wouldn't  give  it  up,  I  know, 
and  you're  only  trying  to  tease  me." 

"No,  indeed,  Wai ;  I  mean  to  give  it  to  you  if  you'll 
only  be  a  good  fellow  and  do  as  I  tell  you." 

"What?"  he  asked,  with  intense  interest. 

"Tell  papa  that  Jim  broke  the  watch." 

"But  he  didn't"  replied  the  child,  opening  his  eyes 
wide  with  astonishment. 

"Well,  what  of  that,  you  little  goose?"  exclaimed 
Arthur  impatiently ;  "papa  doesn't  know  that." 


ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"But  Jim  will  get  punished,"  said  Walter,  "and  1 
don't  want  to  tell  such  a  big  story  either." 

"Very  well,  sir,  then  you'll  not  get  the  whip;  and, 
besides,  if  you  don't  do  as  I  wish,  I'm  certain  you'll 
see  a  ghost  one  of  these  nights;  for  there's  one  comes 
to  see  me  sometimes,  and  I'll  send  him  right  off  to 
you." 

"Oh!  don't,  Arthur,  don't;  I'd  die  of  fright,"  cried 
the  little  boy,  who  was  very  timid,  glancing  nervously 
around,  as  if  he  expected  the  ghost  to  appear  imme 
diately. 

"I  tell  you  I  will,  though,  if  you  don't  do  as  I  sayj 
he'll  come  this  very  night  and  carry  you  off,  and  never 
bring  you  back." 

"O  Arthur!  don't  let  him  come,  and  I'll  say  any 
thing  you  want  me  to,"  cried  the  little  fellow  in  great 
terror. 

"That's  a  good  boy;  I  knew  you  would,"  said  Ar» 
thur,  smiling  triumphantly.  And  turning  away  from 
Walter,  he  next  sought  out  Enna,  and  tried  his  threats 
and  persuasions  upon  her  with  even  better  success. 

Elsie  had  gone  directly  to  her  own  room,  where  she 
sat  trembling  every  time  a  footstep  approached  her 
door,  lest  it  should  be  a  messenger  from  her  grand 
father.  No  one  came,  however,  and  at  last  the  tea 
bell  rang,  and  on  going  down  she  found  to  her  relief 
that  her  grandfather  and  .his  wife  had  not  yet  re 
turned. 

"You  look  pale,  Elsie,"  said  her  father,  giving  hei 
a  scrutinizing  glance  as  she  took  her  seat  by  his  aid* 
"Are  you  well?" 


ELSIE  T5INSMORE  127 

"Yes,  papa,  quite  well,"  she  replied. 

He  looked  at  her  again  a  little  anxiously,  but  said  no 
more;  and  as  soon  as  the  meal  was  concluded,  Elsie 
hastened  away  to  her  own  room  again. 

It  was  still  early  in  the  evening  when  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Dinsmore  returned — for  once,  bringing  no  company 
with  them ;  and  he  had  not  been  many  minutes  in  the 
house  ere  he  took  up  his  watch,  and  of  course  in 
stantly  discovered  the  injury  it  had  sustained. 

His  suspicions  at  once  fell  upon  Arthur,  whose  char 
acter  for  mischief  was  well  established;  and  burning 
with  rage,  watch  in  hand,  he  repaired  to  the  drawing- 
room,  which  he  entered,  asking,  in  tones  tremulous  with 
passion,  "Where  is  Arthur!  Young  rascal!  this  is 
some  of  his  work,"  he  added,  holding  up  the  injured 
article. 

"My  dear,  how  can  you  say  so?  have  you  any 
proof?"  asked  his  wife,  deprecatingly  adding  in  her 
softest  tones,  "my  poor  boy  seems  to  get  the  blame  of 
everything  that  goes  wrong." 

"He  gets  no  more  than  he  deserves,"  replied  her  hus 
band  angrily.  "Arthur!  Arthur,  I  say,  where  arc 
you?" 

"He  is  in  the  garden,  sir,  I  think.  I  saw  him  walk 
ing  in  the  shrubbery  a  moment  since,"  said  Mr.  Horace 
Dinsmore. 

The  father  instantly  despatched  a  servant  to  bring 
him  in;  sending  a  second  in  search  of  the  overseer; 
while  a  third  was  ordered  to  assemble  all  the  house- 
servants.  "I  will  sift  this  matter  to  the  bottom,  and 
child  or  servant  the  guilty  one  shall  suffer  for  it,"  ex- 


128  ELSIE  DINSMORE 

claimed  the  old  gentleman,  pacing  angrily  tip  and 
down  the  room.  "Arthur,"  said  he  sternly,  as  the  boy 
made  his  appearance,  looking  somewhat  pale  and 
alarmed,  "how  dared  you  meddle  with  my  watch  ?" 

"I  didn't,  sir ;  I  never  touched  it,"  he  replied  boldly, 
yet  avoiding  his  father's  eye  as  he  uttered  the  deliberate 
falsehood. 

"There,  my  dear,  I  told  yo&  so/*  exclaimed  his 
mother,  triumphantly. 

"I  don't  believe  you,"  said  his  father;  "and  if  you 
are  guilty,  as  I  strongly  suspect,  you  had  better  con 
fess  it  at  once,  before  I  find  it  out  in  some  other  way." 

"I  didn't  do  it,  sir.  It  was  Jim,  and  I  can  prove  it 
by  Walter  and  Enna ;  we  all  saw  it  fall  from  his  pocket 
when  he  was  up  in  a  tree;  and  he  cried  like  anything 
Arhen  he  found  it  was  broken,  and  said  he  didn't  mean 
;o  do  it  any  harm ;  he  was  only  going  to  wear  it  a  lit 
tle  while,  and  then  put  it  back  all  safe ;  but  now  mas 
ter  would  be  dreadfully  angry,  and  have  him  flogged/' 

"That  I  will,  if  it  is  true,"  exclaimed  the  old  gen 
tleman,  passionately;  "he  shall  be  well  whipped  and 
sent  out  to  work  on  the  plantation.  I'll  keep  no  such 
meddlers  about  my  house." 

He  looked  at  Enna.  "What  do  you  know  of  this  ?" 
he  asked. 

"It  is  true,  papa,  I  saw  him  do  it,"  she  replied,  with 
a  slight  blush,  and  sending  an  uneasy  glance  around 
the  room. 

"Did  you  see  it,  too,  Walter?"  asked  his  father. 

"Yes,  sir/'  replied  the  little  fellow,  in  a  low,  re* 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  129 

luctant  tone ;  "but  please,  papa,  don't  punish  him.   I'm 
sure  he  didn't  mean  to  break  it." 

"Hold  your  tongue!  he  shall  be  punished  as  he  de 
serves,"  cried  the  old  gentleman,  furiously.  "Here,| 
sir,"  turning  to  the  overseer,  and  pointing  to  Jim,  "take 
the  fellow  out,  and  give  him  such  a  flogging  as  he  will 
remember." 

Elsie  was  sitting  in  her  own  room,  trying  to  learn  a 
lesson  for  the  next  day,  but  finding  great  difficulty  in 
fixing  her  thoughts  upon  it,  when  she  was  startled  by 
the  sudden  entrance  of  Aunt  Chloe,  who,  with  hei 
apron  to  her  eyes,  was  sobbing  violently. 

"O  mammy,  mammy!  what's  the  matter?  has  any 
thing  happened  to  you?"  inquired  the  little  girl,  in  z 
tone  of  great  alarm,  starting  to  her  feet,  and  dropping 
her  book  in  her  haste  and  fright. 

"Why,"  sobbed  Chloe,  "Jim,  he's  been  an'  gone  an' 
broke  ole  master's  watch,  an'  he's  gwine  be  whipped, 
an*  old  Aunt  Phoebe  she's  cryin'  fit  to  break  her  ole 
heart  'bout  her  boy,  kase " 

Elsie  waited  to  hear  no  more,  but  darting  out  into 
the  hall,  and  encountering  her  father  on  his  way  to 
his  room,  she  rushed  up  to  him,  pale  and  agitated,  and 
seizing  his  hand,  looked  up  eagerly  into  his  face,  ex 
claiming  with  a  burst  of  tears  and  sobs,  "O  papa,  papal 
don't,  oh !  don't  let  them  whip  poor  Jim." 

Mr.  Dinsmore's  countenance  was  very  grave,  almost 
distressed. 

"I  am  sorry  it  is  necessary,  daughter,"  he  said,  "but 
Jim  has  done  very  wrong,  and  deserves  his  punish 
ment,  and  I  cannot  interfere." 


130  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"Oh!  no,  papa,  he  did  not,  indeed  he  did  not  break 
the  watch.  I  know  he  didn't,  for  I  was  by  and  saw  it 
all." 

"Is  it  possible?"  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  surprise ;  "then 
tell  me  who  did  do  it.  It  could  not  have  been  you, 
Elsie?"  and  he  looked  searchingly  into  her  face. 

"Oh !  no,  papa,  I  would  never  have  dared  to  touch  it. 
But  please  don't  make  me  tell  tales;  but  I  know  it 
wasn't  Jim.  Oh!  do  stop  them  quickly,  before  they 
begin  to  whip  him." 

"Aunt  Chloe,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore,  "go  down  to  my 
father,  and  tell  him  it  is  my  request  that  the  punish 
ment  shoudl  be  delayed  a  few  moments  until  I  come 
down." 

Then  taking  Elsie's  hand,  he  led  her  into  her  room 
again,  and  seating  himself,  drew  her  to  his  side,  say 
ing,  with  grave  decision,  "Now,  my  daughter,  if  you 
want  to  save  Jim,  it  will  be  necessary  for  you  to  tell 
ill  you  know  about  this  affair." 

"I  don't  like  to  tell  tales,  papa,"  pleaded  the  little 
girl ;  "I  think  it  so  very  mean.  Is  it  not  enough  for  me 
to  tell  that  I  know  Jim  didn't  do  it?" 

"No,  Elsie ;  I  have  already  said  that  it  is  quite  neces 
sary  for  you  to  tell  all  you  know.1' 

"O  papa !  don't  make  me ;  I  don't  like  to  do  it,"  she 
urged,  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"I  should  be  very  much  ashamed  of  you,  and  quite 
unwilling  to  own  you  as  my  child,  if  under  any  other 
circumstances  you  were  willing  to  tell  tales,"  he  replied, 
in  a  tone  of  kindness  that  quite  surprised  Elsie,  who 
always  trembled  at  the  very  thought  of  opposing  the 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  131 

slightest  resistance  to  his  will ;  "but,"  he  added,  firmly, 
"it  is  the  only  way  to  save  Jim;  if  you  do  not  now 
make  a  full  disclosure  of  all  you  know,  he  will  be  se 
verely  whipped  and  sent  away  to  work  on  the  planta 
tion,  which  will  distress  his  poor  old  mother  exceed 
ingly.  Elsie,  I  think  you  would  be  doing  very  wickedly 
to  allow  an  innocent  person  to  suffer  when  you  can 
prevent  it;  and  besides,  I  will  add  the  weight  of  my 
authority,  and  say  you  must  do  it  at  once;  and  you 
well  know,  my  daughter,  that  there  can  be  no  question 
as  to  the  duty  of  obedience  to  your  father." 

He  paused,  gazing  earnestly  down  into  the  little  tear 
ful,  downcast,  blushing  face  at  his  side. 

"Have  I  not  said  enough  to  convince  you  of  your 
duty?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  papa;  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,"  she  an 
swered  in  a  tremulous  tone. 

Her  story  was  told  with  evident  reluctance,  but  in  a 
simple,  straightforward  manner,  that  attested  its  truth 
fulness. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  listened  in  silence,  but  with  an  expres^ 
sion  of  indignation  on  his  handsome  features ;  and  the 
moment  she  had  finished  he  rose,  and  again  taking  her 
hand,  led  her  from  the  room,  saying,  as  he  did  so: 

"You  must  repeat  this  story  to  your  grandfather." 

"O  papa!  must  I?  Won't  you  tell  him?  please  don't 
make  me  do  it,"  she  pleaded  tremblingly,  and  hanging 
back. 

"My  daughter,  you  must,"  he  replied,  so  sternly  that 
she  dared  not  make  any  further  resistance,  but  quietly 
submitted  to  be  led  into  her  grandfather's  presence. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE 

He  was  still  in  the  drawing-room,  walking  about  in 
a  disturbed  and  angry  manner,  and  now  and  then  cast 
ing  a  suspicious  glance  upon  Arthur,  who  sat  pale  and 
trembling  in  a  corner,  looking  the  picture  of  guilt  and 
misery;  for  he  had  heard  Chloe  deliver  his  brother's 
message,  and  feared  that  exposure  awaited  him. 

Walter  had  stolen  away  to  cry  over  Jim's  punish 
ment,  and  wish  that  he  had  had  the  courage  to  tell  the 
truth  at  first;  but  saying  to  himself  that  it  was  too  late 
now,  his  father  wouldn't  believe  him,  and  he  would 
make  it  up  to  Jim  somehow,  even  if  it  took  all  his 
pocket-money  for  a  month. 

None  of  the  other  members  of  the  family  had  left 
the  room,  and  all  wore  an  anxious,  expectant  look,  as 
Mr.  Dinsmore  entered,  leading  Elsie  by  the  hand. 

"I  have  brought  you  another  witness,  sir,"  he  said, 
"for  it  seems  Elsie  was  present  when  the  mischief  was 
done." 

"Ah !"  exclaimed  the  old  gentlemen ;  "then  I  may 
hope  to  get  at  the  truth.  Elsie,  who  broke  my  watch  ?" 

"It  was  not  Jim,  grandpa,  indeed,  indeed,  it  was 
not ;  but  oh !  please  don't  make  me  say  who  it  was,"  re 
plied  the  little  girl,  beseechingly. 

"Elsie!"  exclaimed  her  father,  in  a  tone  of  stern  re 
proof. 

"O  papa!  how  can  I?"  she  sobbed,  trembling  and 
clinging  to  his  hand  as  she  caught  a  threatening  look 
from  Arthur. 

"Come,  come,  child,  you  must  tell  us  all  you  know 
about  it,"  said  her  grandfather,  "or  else  I  can't  let 
Jim  oft" 


ELSIE    DINSMORE  133 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  looking  down  at  his  little  girl 
and,  following  the  direction  of  her  glance,  perceived 
the  cause  of  her  terror.  "Don't  be  afraid  to  speak  out 
and  tell  all  you  know,  daughter,  for  I  will  protect  you," 
he  said,  pressing  the  little  trembling  hand  in  his,  and 
at  the  saime  time  giving  Arthur  a  meaning  look. 

"Yes,  yes,  speak  out,  child ;  speak  out  at  once ;  no 
one  shall  hurt  you  for  telling  the  truth,"  exclaimed  her 
grandfather,  impatiently. 

"I  will,  grandpa,"  she  said,  trembling  and  weeping; 
"but  please  don't  be  very  angry  with  Arthur;  if  you 
will  forgive  him  this  time,  I  think  he  will  never  med 
dle  any  more ;  and  I  am  quite  sure  he  did  not  mean  to 
break  it" 

"So  it  was  you,  after  all,  you  young  rascal !  I  knew 
it  from  the  first!"  cried  the  old  gentleman,  striding 
across  the  room,  seizing  the  boy  by  the  shoulder  and 
shaking  him  roughly. 

"But  go  on,  Elsie,  let  us  have  the  whole  story,"  he 
added,  turning  to  her  again,  but  still  keeping  his  hold 
upon  Arthur.  "You  young  dog!"  he  added,  when  she 
had  finished.  "Yes,  I'll  forgive  you  when  you've  had  a 
good,  sound  flogging,  and  a  week's  solitary  confine 
ment  on  bread  and  water,  but  not  before." 

So  saying,  he  was  about  to  lead  him  from  the  room, 
when  Elsie  suddenly  sprang  forward,  and  with  clasped 
hands,  and  flushed,  eager  face,  she  pleaded  earnestly, 
beseechingly,  "O  grandpa !  don't  whip  him,  don't  pun 
ish  him!  He  will  never  be  so  naughty  again.  Will 
you,  Arthur  ?  Let  me  pay  for  the  watch,  grandpa,  and 
don't  punish  him.  I  would  so  like  to  do  it." 


134  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"It  isn't  the  moneyed  value  of  the  watch  I  care  for, 
child,"  replied  the  old  gentleman,  contemptuously; 
"and  besides,  where  would  you  get  so  much  money  ?" 

"I  am  rich,  grandpa,  am  I  not?  Didn't  my  mamma 
leave  me  a  great  deal  of  money?"  asked  the  little  girl, 
casting  down  her  eyes  and  blushing  painfully. 

"No,  Elsie,"  said  her  father,  very  gently,  as  he  took 
her  hand  and  led  her  back  to  the  side  of  his  chair 
again,  "you  have  nothing  but  what  I  choose  to  give 
you,  until  you  come  of  age,  which  will  not  be  for  a 
great  many  years  yet." 

"But  you  will  give  me  the  money  to  pay  for  the 
watch  papa,  won't  you  ?"  she  asked,  pleadingly. 

"No,  I  certainly  shall  not,  for  I  think  Arthur  should 
be  left  to  suffer  the  penalty  of  his  own  misdeeds,"  he 
replied  in  a  very  decided  tone;  "and,  besides,"  he 
added,  "your  grandfather  has  already  told  you  that  it 
is  not  the  pecuniary  loss  he  cares  for." 

"No;  but  I  will  teach  this  young  rascal  to  let  my 
property  alone,"  said  the  elder  gentleman  with  almost 
fierce  determination,  as  he  tightened  his  grasp  upon 
the  boy's  arm  and  dragged  him  from  the  room. 

Arthur  cast  a  look  of  hatred  and  defiance  at  Elsie 
as  he  went  out,  that  made  her  grow  pale  with  fear 
and  tremble  so  that  she  could  scarcely  stand. 

Her  father  saw  both  the  look  and  its  effect,  and 
drawing  the  little  trembler  closer  to  him,  he  put  his 
arm  around  her,  and  stroking  her  hair,  said  in  a  low, 
soothing  tone :  "Don't  be  frightened,  daughter ;  I  will 
protect  you." 

She  answered  him  with  a  grateful  look  and  a  long 


ELSIE    DINSMORE  135 

sigh  of  relief,  and  he  was  just  about  to  take  her  on 
his  knee  when  visitors  were  announced,  and,  changing 
his  mind,  he  dismissed  her  to  her  room,  and  she  saw 
no  more  of  him  that  evening. 

"Oh!  if  they  only  hadn't  come  just  now,"  thought 
the  sorely  disappointed  child,  as  she  went  out  with 
slow,  reluctant  steps.  "I'm  sure  they  wouldn't,  if  they 
had  only  known.  I'm  sure,  quite  sure  papa  was  going 
to  take  me  on  his  knee,  and  they  prevented  him.  Oh ! 
will  be  ever  think  of  doing  it  again !  Dear,  dear  papa, 
if  you  could  only  know  how  I  long  to  sit  there!"  But 
Mrs.  Dinsmore,  who  had  hastily  retired  on  the  exit  of 
Arthur  and  his  father  from  the  drawing-room,  was 
now  sailing  majestically  down  the  hall,  on  her  return 
thither;  and  Elsie,  catching  sight  of  her,  and  being 
naturally  anxious  to  avoid  a  meeting  just  then,  at  once 
quickened  her  pace  very  considerably,  almost  running 
up  the  stairs  to  her  own  room,  where  she  found  old 
Aunt  Phoebe,  Jim's  mother,  waiting  to  speak  with  her. 

The  poor  old  creature  was  overflowing  with  grati 
tude,  and  her  fervent  outpouring  of  thanks  and  bless 
ings  almost  made  Elsie  forget  her  disappointment  fof 
the  time. 

Then  Jim  came  to  the  door,  asking  to  see  Miss  Elsie, 
and  poured  out  his  thanks  amid  many  sobs  and  tears ; 
for  the  poor  fellow  had  been  terribly  frightened — in 
deed,  so  astounded  by  the  unexpected  charge,  that  he 
had  not  had  a  word  to  say  in  his  own  defence,  be 
yond  an  earnest  and  reiterated  assertion  of  his  entire 
innocence;  to  which,  however,  his  angry  master  had 
paid  no  attention. 


136  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

But  at  length  Phoebe  remembered  that  she  had  sofne 
baking  to  do,  and  calling  on  Jim  to  come  right  along 
and  split  up  some  dry  wood  to  heat  her  oven,  she  went 
down  to  the  kitchen  followed  by  her  son,  and  Elsie 
was  left  alone  with  her  nurse. 

Chloe  sat  silently  knitting,  and  the  little  girl,  with 
her  head  leaning  upon  her  hand  and  her  eyes  fixed 
thoughtfully  upon  the  floor,  was  rehearsing  again  and 
again  in  her  own  mind  all  that  had  just  passed  be 
tween  her  papa  and  herself;  dwelling  with  lingering 
delight  upon  everything  approaching  to  a  caress,  every 
kind  word,  every  soothing  tone  of  his  voice;  and  then 
picturing  to  herself  all  that  he  might  have  done  and 
said  if  those  unwelcome  visitors  had  not  come  in  and 
put  an  end  to  the  interview;  and  half  hoping  that  he 
would  send  for  her  when  they  had  gone,  she  watched 
the  clock  and  listened  intently  for  every  sound. 

But  her  bedtime  came  and  she  dared  not  stay  up  any 
longer;  for  his  orders  had  been  peremptory  that  she 
should  always  retire  precisely  at  that  hour,  unless  she 
had  his  express  permission  to  remain  up  longer. 

She  lay  awake  for  some  time,  thinking  of  his  un 
wonted  kindness,  and  indulging  fond  hopes  for  the 
future,  then  fell  asleep  to  dream  that  she  was  on  her 
father's  knee,  and  felt  his  arms  folded  lovingly  about 
her,  and  his  kisses  warm  upon  her  cheek. 

Her  heart  beat  quickly  as  she  entered  the  breakfast- 
room  the  next  morning. 

The  family  were  just  taking  their  places  at  the  table, 
and  her  half-eager,  half-timid  "Good  morning,  papa/5 
was  answered  by  a  grave,  absent  "Good  morning, 


ELSIE  DINSMORE 

Elsie,"  and  turning  to  his  father  and  entering  into  a 
conversation  with  him  on  some  business  matter,  he 
took  no  further  notice  of  his  little  daughter,  excepting 
to  see  that  her  plate  was  well  supplied  with  such  arti 
cles  of  food  as  he  allowed  her  to  eat. 

Elsie  was  sadly  disappointed,  and  lingered  about  the 
room  in  the  vain  hope  of  obtaining  a  smile  or  caress ; 
but  presently  her  father  went  out,  saying  to  the  elder 
Mr.  Dinsmore  that  he  was  going  to  ride  over  to  Ion, 
and  would  probably  not  return  before  night ;  then,  with 
a  sigh,  the  little  girl  went  back  to  her  own  room  to  pre 
pare  her  morning  lessons. 

Elsie  was  now  happily  free  from  Arthur's  persecu 
tions  for  a  time ;  for  even  after  his  release,  he  was  too 
much  afraid  of  his  brother  openly  to  offer  her  any  very 
serious  annoyance,  though  he  plotted  revenge  in  secret ; 
yet  the  little  girl's  situation  was  far  from  comfortable, 
and  her  patience  often  severely  tried,  for  Mrs.  Dins- 
more  was  excessively  angry  with  her  on  Arthur's  ac 
count,  and  whenever  her  father  was  not  present, 
treated  her  in  the  most  unkind  manner;  and  from  the 
same  cause  the  rest  of  the  family,  with  the  exception 
of  her  grandpa  and  Aunt  Adelaide,  were  unusually 
cold  and  distant;  while  her  father,  although  careful  to 
see  that  all  her  wants  were  attended  to,  seldom  took 
any  further  notice  of  her;  unless  to  reprove  her  for 
some  childish  fault  which,  however  trifling,  never  es 
caped  his  eye. 

"You  seem,"  said  Adelaide  to  him  one  day,  as  he 
sent  Elsie  from  the  room  for  some  very  slight  fault, 
"to  expect  that  child  to  be  a  great  deal  more 


138  ELSIE    DINSMORE 

than  any  grown  person  I  ever  saw,  and  to  understand 
all  about  the  rules  of  etiquette." 

"If  you  please,  Adelaide,"  said  he  haughtily,  "I 
should  like  to  be  allowed  to  manage  my  own  child  as 
I  see  proper,  without  any  interference  from  others." 

"Excuse  me,"  replied  his  sister;  "I  had  no  inten 
tion  of  interfering;  but  really,  Horace,  I  do  think  you 
have  no  idea  how  eagle-eyed  you  are  for  faults  in  her, 
nor  how  very  stern  is  the  tone  in  which  you  always 
reprove  her.  I  have  known  Elsie  a  great  deal  longer 
than  you  have,  and  I  feel  very  certain  that  a  gentle 
reproof  would  do  her  quite  as  much  good,  and  not 
wound  her  half  so  much." 

"Enough,  Adelaide!"  exclaimed  her  brother,  im 
patiently.  "If  I  were  ten  years  younger  than  yourself, 
instead  of  that  much  older,  there  might  be  some  pro 
priety  in  your  advising  and  directing  me  thus ;  as  it  is, 
I  must  say  I  consider  it  simply  impertinent."  And  he 
left  the  room  with  an  angry  stride,  while  Adelaide 
looked  after  him  with  the  thought,  "I  am  glad  you 
have  no  authority  over  me." 

All  that  Adelaide  had  said  was  true ;  yet  Elsie  never 
complained,  never  blamed  her  father,  even  in  her 
heart ;  but,  in  her  deep  humility,  thought  it  was  all  be 
cause  she  was  "so  very  naughty  or  careless ;"  and  she 
was  continually  making  resolutions  to  be  "oh !  so  care 
ful  always  to  do  just  right,  and  please  dear  papa,  so 
that  some  day  he  might  learn  to  love  her." 

But,  alas !  that  hope  was  daily  growing  fainter  and 
fainter;  his  cold  and  distant  manner  to  her  and  his 
often  repeated  reproofs  had  so  increased  her  natural 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  139 

timidity  and  sensitiveness  that  she  was  now  very  con 
strained  in  her  approaches  to  him,  and  seldom  ven 
tured  to  move  or  speak  in  his  presence ;  and  he  would 
not  see  that  this  timidity  and  embarrassment  were  the 
natural  results  of  his  treatment,  but  attributed  it  all  to 
want  of  affection.  He  saw  that  she  feared  him,  and 
to  that  feeling  alone  he  gave  credit  for  her  uniform 
obedience  to  his  commands,  while  he  had  no  concep 
tion  of  the  intense,  but  now  almost  despairing  love  for 
him  that  burned  in  that  little  heart,  and  made  the 
young  life  one  longing,  earnest  desire  and  effort  to 
gain  his  affection. 


CHAPTER    SIXTH 

"Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  ot 
death,  I  will  fear  no  evil;  for  thou  art  with  me;  thy  rod  and 
thy  staff,  they  comfort  me." — Psalm  xxiii.  4. 

"  'Tis  but  the  cruel  artifice  of  fate, 
Thus  to  refine  and  vary  on  our  woes, 
To  raise  us  from  despair  and  give  us  hopes, 
Only  to  plunge  us  in  the  gulf  again, 
And  make  us  doubly  wretched." 

— TRAP'S  Abramuh* 

IT  was  Sabbath  morning,  and  Elsie,  ready  dressed 
for  church,  stood  in  the  portico  waiting  for  her  father 
to  come  down  and  lift  her  into  the  carriage,  in  which 
Adelaide,  Louisa,  and  Enna  were  already  seated. 

The  coachman  was  in  his  seat,  and  the  horses,  a 
pair  of  young  and  fiery  steeds  purchased  by  Mr.  Dins- 
more  only  a  few  days  before,  were  impatiently  stamp 
ing  and  tossing  their  heads,  requiring  quite  an  exer 
tion  of  strength  to  hold  them  in. 

"I  don't  exactly  like  the  actions  of  ihose  horses, 
Ajax,"  remarked  Mr.  Dinsmore,  as  he  came  out  put 
ting  on  his  gloves;  "I  did  not  intend  to  have  them 
put  in  harness  to-day.  Why  did  you  not  give  us  the 
old  bays?" 

"Kase,  Marster  Horace,  ole  Kate  she's  got  a  lame 

140 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  141 

foot,  an'  ole  marster  he  says  dese  youngsters  is  got  to 
be  used  some  time  or  nuther,  an'  I  reckoned  I  mout 
jis  as  well  use  'em  to-day." 

"Do  you'  feel  quite  sure  of  being  able  to  hold  them 
in?"  asked  his  master,  glancing  uneasily  first  at  the 
horses  and  then  at  Elsie. 

"Ki!  marster,  dis  here  chile  ben  able  to  hold  in 
a'most  anything,"  exclaimed  the  negro,  exhibiting  a 
double  row  of  dazzlingly  white  teeth;  "an'  besides, 
Fse  drove  dese  here  hosses  twice  'fore  now,  an'  dey 
went  splendid.  Hold  'em  in!  Yes,  sah,  easy  as 
nuffin." 

"Elsie,"  said  her  father,  still  looking  a  little  un 
easy,  in  spite  of  Ajax's  boasting,  "I  think  it  would  be 
just  as  well  for  you  to  stay  at  home." 

Elsie  made  no  reply  in  words,  but  her  answering 
look  spoke  such  intense  disappointment,  such  earnest 
entreaty,  that,  saying,  "Ah!  well,  I  suppose  there  is 
no  real  danger ;  and  since  you  seem  so  anxious  to  go,  I 
will  not  compel  you  to  stay  at  home,"  he  lifted  her 
into  the  carriage,  and  seating  himself  beside  her,  or 
dered  the  coachman  to  drive  on  as  carefully  as  he 
Could. 

"Elsie,  change  seats  with  me,"  said  Enna;  "I  want 
to  sit  beside  Brother  Horace." 

"No,"  replied  Mr.  Dinsmore,  laying  his  hand  on  his 
little  daughter's  shoulder,  "Elsie's  place  is  by  me,  and 
she  shall  sit  nowhere  else." 

"Do  you  think  we  are  in  any  danger  of  being  run 
away  with?"  asked  Adelaide,  a  little  anxiously  as  she 
observed  him  glancing  once  or  twice  out  of  the  win- 


142  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

dow,  and  was  at  the  same  time  sensible  that  their  mo 
tion  was  unusually  rapid. 

"The  horses  are  young  and  fiery,  but  Ajax  is  an  ex 
cellent  driver,"  he  replied,  evasively ;  adding,  "You  may 
be  sure  that  if  I  had  thought  the  danger  very  great  I 
would  have  left  Elsie  at  home." 

They  reached  the  church  without  accident,  but  on 
their  return  the  horses  took  fright  while  going  down  a 
hill,  and  rushed  along  at  a  furious  rate,  which  threat 
ened  every  instant  to  upset  the  carriage. 

Elsie  thought  they  were  going  very  fast,  but  did  not 
know  that  there  was  real  danger  until  her  father  sud 
denly  lifted  her  from  her  seat,  and  placing  her  between 
his  knees,  held  her  tightly,  as  though  he  feared  she 
would  be  snatched  from  his  grasp. 

Elsie  looked  up  into  his  face.  It  was  deadly  pale, 
and  his  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  with  an  expression  of 
anguish. 

"Dear  papa,"  she  whispered,  "God  will  take  care 
of  us." 

"I  would  give  all  I  am  worth  to  have  you  safe  at 
home,"  he  answered  hoarsely,  pressing  her  closer  and 
closer  to  him. 

O !  even  in  that  moment  of  fearful  peril,  when  death 
seemed  just  at  hand,  those  words,  and  the  affectionate 
clasp  of  her  father's  arm,  sent  a  thrill  of  intense  joy 
to  the  love-famished  heart  of  the  little  girl. 

But  destruction  seemed  inevitable.  Lora  was  lean 
ing  back,  half  fainting  with  terror;  Adelaide  scarcely 
less  alarmed,  while  Enna  clung  to  her,  sobbing  most 
bitterly. 


ELSIE    DINSMORE  143 

Elsie  alone  preserved  a  cheerful  serenity.  She  had 
built  her  house  upon  the  rock,  and  knew  that  it  would 
stand.  Her  destiny  was  in  her  Heavenly  Father's 
hands,  and  she  was  content  to  leave  it  there.  Even 
death  had  no  terrors  to  the  simple,  unquestioning  faith 
of  the  little  child  who  had  put  her  trust  in  Jesus. 

But  they  were  not  to  perish  thus ;  for  at  that  moment 
a  powerful  negro,  who  was  walking  along  the  road, 
hearing  an  unusual  sound,  turned  about,  caught  sight 
of  the  vehicle  coming  toward  him  at  such  a  rapid  rate, 
and  instantly  comprehending  the  peril  of  the  travellers, 
planted  himself  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  and,  at 
the  risk  of  life  and  limb,  caught  the  horses  by  the 
bridle — the  sudden  and  unexpected  check  throwing 
them  upon  their  haunches,  and  bringing  the  carriage  to 
an  instant  stand-still. 

"Thank  God,  we  are  saved!  Tnat  fellow  shall  be 
well  rewarded  for  his  brave  deed,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Dinsmore,  throwing  open  the  carriage  door. 

Then,  leaping  to  the  ground,  he  lifted  Elsie  out,  set 
her  down,  and  gave  his  hand  to  his  sisters  one  after 
the  other. 

They  were  almost  at  the  entrance  of  the  avenue,  and 
all  preferred  to  walk  the  short  distance  to  the  house 
rather  than  again  trust  themselves  to  the  horses. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  lingered  a  moment  to  speak  to  the 
man  who  had  done  them  such  good  service,  and  to  give 
some  directions  to  the  coachman ;  and  then,  taking 
the  hand  of  his  little  girl,  who  had  been  waiting  for 
him,  he  walked  slowly  on,  neither  of  them  speaking  a 
word  until  they  reached  the  house,  when  he  stooped 


144  ELSIE    DINSMORE 

and  kissed  her  cheek,  asking  very  kindly  if  she  had 
recovered  from  her  fright. 

"Yes,  papa,"  she  answered,  in  a  quiet  tone,  "I  knevi 
that  God  would  take  care  of  us.  Oh !  wasn't  He  gooc< 
to  keep  us  all  from  being  killed?" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  very  gravely.  "Go  now  and  let 
mammy  get  you  ready  for  dinner." 

As  Elsie  was  sitting  alone  in  her  room  that  after 
noon  she  was  surprised  by  a  visit  from  Lora ;  it  being 
very  seldom  that  the  elder  girls  cared  to  enter  her 
apartment. 

Lora  looked  a  little  pale,  and  more  grave  and 
thoughtful  than  Elsie  had  ever  seen  her.  For  a  while 
she  sat  in  silence,  then  suddenly  burst  out,  "Oh,  Elsie ! 
I  can't  help  thinking  all  the  time,  what  if  we  had  been 
killed !  where  would  we  all  be  now  ?  where  would  / 
have  been  ?  I  believe  you  would  have  gone  straight  to 
heaven,  Elsie ;  but  / — oh !  I  should  have  been  with  the 
rich  man  the  minister  read  about  this  morning,  lifting 
up  my  eyes  in  torment." 

And  Lora  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and 
shuddered. 

Presently  she  went  on  again.  "I  was  terribly  fright 
ened,  and  so  were  the  rest — all  but  you,  Elsie ;  tell  me, 
do — what  kept  you  from  being  afraid?" 

"I  was  thinking,"  said  Elsie  gently,  turning  over  the 
leaves  of  her  little  Bible  as  she  spoke,  "of  this  sweet 
verse :  'Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil;  for  thou  art 
with  me ;'  and  oh,  Lora !  it  made  me  so  happy  to  think 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  145 

that  Jesus  was  there  with  me,  and  that  if  I  were 
killed,  I  should  only  fall  asleep,  to  wake  up  again  ir 
His  arms ;  then  how  could  I  be  afraid  ?" 

"Ah!  I  would  give  anything  to  feel  as  you  do," 
said  Lora,  sighing.  "But  tell  me,  Elsie,  did  you  not 
feel  afraid  for  the  rest  of  us?  I'm  sure  you  must 
know  that  we  are  not  Christians ;  we  don't  even  pretend 
to  be." 

Elsie  blushed  and  looked  down. 

"It  all  passed  so  quickly,  you  know,  Lora,  almost 
in  a  moment,"  she  said,  "so  that  I  only  had  time  to 
think  of  papa  and  myself ;  and  I  have  prayed  so  much 
for  him  that  I  felt  quite  sure  God  would  spare  him  un 
til  he  should  be  prepared  to  die.  It  was  very  selfish,  I 
know,"  she  added  with  deep  humility ;"  but  it  was  only 
for  a  moment,  and  I  can't  tell  you  how  thankful  I 
was  for  all  our  spared  lives." 

"Don't  look  so — as  if  you  had  done  something  very 
wicked,  Elsie,"  replied  Lora,  sighing  again.  "I'm  sure 
we  have  given  you  little  enough  reason  to  care  what 
ever  becomes  of  us;  but  oh!  Elsie,  if  you  can  only  tell 
me  how  to  be  a  Christian,  I  mean  now  to  try  very 
hard;  indeed,  I  am  determined  never  to  rest  until  I 
am  one." 

"Oh,  Lora,  how  glad  I  am!"  cried  Elsie,  joyfully, 
"for  I  know  that  if  you  are  really  in  earnest,  you  will 
succeed ;  for  no  one  ever  yet  failed  who  tried  aright. 
Jesus  said,  'Every  one  that  asketh,  receiveth;  and  he 
that  seeketh,  findeth ;  and  to  him  that  knocketh,  it  shall 
be  opened.'  Is  not  that  encouraging?  And  listen  to 
what  God  says  here  in  this  verse :  'Ye  shall  seek  me. 


146  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

and  find  me,  when  ye  shall  search  for  me  with  all  your 
heart.'  So  you  see,  dear  Lora,  if  you  will  only  seek 
the  Lord  with  your  whole  heart,  you  may  be  sure, 
quite  sure  of  finding  Him." 

"Yes,"  said  Lora,  "but  you  have  not  answered  my 
question;  how  am  I  to  seek?  that  is,  what  means  am 
I  to  use  to  get  rid  of  my  sins,  and  get  a  new  heart? 
how  make  myself  pleasing  in  the  sight  of  God?  what 
must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?" 

"That  is  the  very  question  the  jailer  put  to  Paul,  and 
he  answered,  'Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
thou  shalt  be  saved/"  replied  Elsie,  quickly  turning 
to  the  chapter  and  pointing  out  the  text  with  her 
finger,  that  Lora  might  see  that  she  had  quoted  it  cor 
rectly.  "And  in  answer  to  your  other  question,  'How 
shall  I  get  rid  of  my  sins?'  see  here:  'In  that  day 
there  shall  be  a  fountain  opened  to  the  house  of  David 
and  to  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem  for  sin  and  for 
uncleanliness/  That  is  in  Zechariah;  then  John  tells 
us  what  that  fountain  is  when  he  says,  'The  blood  of 
Jesus  Christ  His  Son  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin;'  and 
again,  'Unto  Him  that  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from 
our  sins  in  His  own  blood/  " 

"Yes,  Elsie,  but  what  must  I  do?"  asked  Lora, 
eagerly. 

"Do,  Lora  ?  only  believe,"  replied  Elsie,  in  the  same 
earnest  tone.  "Jesus  has  done  and  suffered  all  that  is 
necessary;  and  now  we  have  nothing  at  all  to  do  but 
go  to  Him  and  be  washed  in  that  fountain;  believe 
Him  when  He  says,  'I  give  unto  them  eternal  life;' 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  147 

just  accept  the  gift,  and  trust  and  love  Him;  that  is 
the  whole  of  it,  and  it  is  so  simple  that  even  such  a 
little  girl  as  I  can  understand  it." 

"But  surely,  Elsie,  I  can,  I  must  do  something." 

"Yes,  God  tells  us  to  repent ;  and  He  says,  'Give  me 
•shine  heart;'  you  can  do  that;  you  can  love  Jesus;  at 
least  He  will  enable  you  to,  if  you  ask  Him,  and  He 
will  teach  you  to  be  sorry  for  your  sins;  the  Bible 
says,  'He  is  exalted  to  give  repentance  and  remission 
of  sins ;'  and  if  you  ask  Him  He  will  give  them  to  you. 
It  is  true  we  cannot  do  anything  good  of  ourselves; 
without  the  help  of  the  Holy  Spirit  we  can  do  noth 
ing  right,  because  we  are  so  very  wicked ;  but  then  we 
can  always  get  that  help  if  we  ask  for  it.  Jesus  said, 
'Your  Heavenly  Father  is  more  willing  to  give  His 
Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  Him,  than  parents  are  to 
give  good  gifts  unto  their  children.  Oh,  Lora!  don't 
be  afraid  to  ask  for  it;  don't  be  afraid  to  come  to 
Jesus,  for  He  says,  'Him  that  cometh  unto  Me,  I  will 
in  nowise  cast  out ;'  and  He  is  such  a  precious  Saviour, 
so  kind  and  loving.  But  remember  that  you  must  come/ 
very  humbly ;  feeling  that  you  are  a  great  sinner,  and^ 
not  worthy  to  be  heard,  and  only  hoping  to  be  for 
given,  because  Jesus  died.  The  Bible  says,  'God  re- 
sisteth  the  proud,  but  giveth  grace  unto  the  humble.' " 

Lora  lingered  the  greater  part  of  the  afternoon  in 
Elsie's  room,  asking  her  questions,  or  listening  to  her 
while  she  read  the  Scriptures,  or  repeated  some  beauti 
ful  hymn,  or  spoke  in  her  sweet,  childish  way,  of  her 
own  peace  and  joy  in  believing  in  Jesus. 

But  at  last  Lora  went  to  her  own  room,  and  Elsie 


148  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

had  another  quiet  half-hour  to  herself  before  the  tea- 
bell  again  called  the  family  together. 

Elsie  answered  the  summons  with  a  light  heart — a 
heart  that  thrilled  with  a  new  and  strange  sense  of  hap 
piness  as  she  remembered  her  father's  evident  anxiety 
for  her  safety  during  their  perilous  ride,  recalling 
each  word  and  look,  and  feeling  again,  in  imagination, 
the  clasp  of  his  arm  about  her  waist. 

"Ah!  surely  papa  does  love  me,"  she  murmured  to 
herself  over  and  over  again ;  and  when  he  met  her  at 
the  table  with  a  kind  smile,  and  laying  his  hand  ca 
ressingly  on  her  head,  asked  in  an  affectionate  tone, 
"How  does  my  little  daughter  do  this  evening?"  her 
cheeks  flushed,  and  her  eyes  grew  bright  with  happi 
ness,  and  she  longed  to  throw  her  arms  around  his 
neck,  and  tell  him  how  very,  very  much  she  loved  him. 

But  that  was  quite  impossible  at  the  table,  and  be 
fore  all  the  family ;  so  she  merely  raised  her  glad  eyes 
to  his  face  and  answered,  "I  am  very  well,  thank  you, 
papa." 

But,  after  all,  this  occurrence  produced  but  little 
change  in  Elsie's  condition;  her  father  treated  her  a 
little  more  affectionately  for  a  day  or  two,  and  then 
gradually  returned  to  his  ordinary  stern,  cold  manner ; 
indeed,  before  the  week  was  out,  she  was  again  in  sad 
disgrace. 

She  was  walking  alone  in  the  garden  one  afternoon, 
when  her  attention  was  attracted  by  a  slight  fluttering 
noise  which  seemed  to  proceed  from  an  arbor  near  by, 
and  on  hastily  turning  in  to  ascertain  the  cause,  she 
found  a  tiny  and  beautiful  humming-bird  confined  utt 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  149 

cler  a  glass  vase ;  in  its  struggles  to  escape  it  was  flut 
tering  and  beating  against  the  walls  of  its  prison,  thus 
producing  the  sound  the  little  girl  had  heard  in  pass 
ing. 

Elsie  was  very  tender-hearted,  and  could  never  see 
any  living  creature  in  distress  without  feeling  a  strong 
desire  to  relieve  its  sufferings.  She  knew  that  Arthur 
was  in  the  habit  of  torturing  every  little  insect  and 
bird  that  came  in  his  way,  and  had  often  drawn  his 
persecutions  upon  herself  by  interfering  in  behalf  of 
the  poor  victim ;  and  now  the  thought  instantly  flashed 
upon  her  that  this  was  some  of  his  work,  and  that  he 
would  return  ere  long  to  carry  out  his  cruel  purposes. 
Then  at  once  arose  the  desire  to  release  the  little 
prisoner  and  save  it  further  suffering,  and  without 
waiting  to  reflect  a  moment  she  raised  the  glass,  and 
the  bird  was  gone. 

Then  she  began  to  think  with  a  little  tremor,  how 
angry  Arthur  would  be;  but  it  was  too  late  to  think 
of  that  now,  and,  after  all,  she  did  not  stand  in  very 
great  dread  of  the  consequences,  especially  as  she  felt 
nearly  sure  of  her  father's  approval  of  what  she  had 
done,  having  several  times  heard  him  reprove  Arthur 
for  his  cruel  practices. 

Not  caring  to  meet  Arthur  then,  however,  she  has 
tily  retreated  to  the  house,  where  she  seated  herself  in 
the  veranda  with  a  book.  It  was  a  very  warm  after 
noon,  and  that,  being  on  the  east  side  of  the  house 
and  well  protected  by  trees,  shrubbery,  and  vines,  was 
as  cool  a  spot  as  could  be  found  on  the  place. 

Arthur.  Walter  and  Enna  sat  on  the  floor  playing 


150  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

jack-stones — a  favorite  game  with  them — and  Louise 
was  stretched  full  length  on  a  settee,  buried  in  the 
latest  novel. 

"Hush!"  she  said,  as  Walter  gave  a  sudden  shout 
at  a  successful  toss  Enna  had  just  made;  "can't  you 
be  quiet?  Mamma  is  taking  her  afternoon  nap,  and 
you  will  disturb  her;  and,  besides,  I  cannot  read  in 
such  a  noise." 

Elsie  wondered  why  Arthur  did  not  go  to  see  after 
his  bird,  but  soon  forgot  all  about  it  in  the  interest 
with  which  she  was  poring  over  the  story  of  the  "Swiss 
Family  Robinson." 

The  jack-stone  players  were  just  finishing  their 
game  when  they  were  all  startled  by  the  sudden  ap 
pearance  of  Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore  upon  the  scene,  ask 
ing  in  a  tone  of  great  wrath  who  had  been  down  in  the 
garden  and  liberated  the  humming-bird  he  had  been 
at  such  pains  to  catch,  because  it  was  one  of  a  rare 
species,  and  he  was  anxious  to  add  it  to  his  collection 
of  curiosities. 

Elsie  was  terribly  frightened,  and  would  have  been 
glad  at  that  moment  to  sink  through  the  floor;  she 
dropped  her  book  in  her  lap,  and  clasping  her  hands 
over  her  beating  heart,  grew  pale  and  red  by  turns, 
while  she  seemed  choking  with  the  vain  effort  to  speak 
and  acknowledge  herself  the  culprit,  as  conscience 
told  her  she  ought. 

But  her  father  was  not  looking  at  her;  his  eye  was 
fixed  on  Arthur. 

"I  presume  it  was  you,  sir,"  he  said  very  angrily, 
"and  if  so,  you  may  prepare  yourself  for  either  a  flog- 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  151 

ging  or  a  return  to  your  prison,  for  one  or  the  other 
I  am  determined  you  shall  have." 

"I  didn't  do  it,  any  such  thing,"  replied  the  boy, 
fiercely. 

"Of  course  you  will  deny  it,"  said  his  brother,  "but 
we  all  know  that  your  word  is  good  for  nothing." 

"Papa,"  said  a  trembling  little  voice,  "Arthur  did 
not  do  it;  it  was  I." 

"You,"  exclaimed  her  father,  in  a  tone  of  mingled 
anger  and  astonishment,  as  he  turned  his  flashing 
eye  upon  her,  "you,  Elsie!  can  it  be  possible  that  this 
is  your  doing?" 

Elsie's  book  fell  on  the  floor,  and,  covering  her  face 
with  both  hands,  she  burst  into  sobs  and  tears. 

"Come  here  to  me  this  instant,"  he  said,  seating  him 
self  on  the  settee,  from  which  Louise  had  risen  on  his 
entrance.  "Come  here  and  tell  me  what  you  mean  by 
meddling  with  my  affairs  in  this  way." 

"Please,  papa,  please  don't  be  so  very  angry  with 
me,"  sobbed  the  little  girl,  as  she  rose  and  came  for 
ward  in  obedience  to  his  command;  "I  didn't  know  it 
was  your  bird,  and  I  didn't  mean  to  be  naughty." 

"No,  you  never  mean  to  be  naughty,  according  to 
your  own  account,"  he  said;  "your  badness  is  all  ac 
cident;  but  nevertheless,  I  find  you  a  very  trouble 
some,  mischievous  child;  it  was  only  the  other  day 
you  broke  a  valuable  vase"  (he  forgot  in  his  anger 
how  little  she  had  really  been  to  blame  for  that),  "and 
now  you  have  caused  me  the  loss  of  a  rare  specimen 
which  I  had  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  and  effort  in 


152  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

procuring.  Really,  Elsie,  I  am  sorely  tempted  to  ad 
minister  a  very  severe  punishment." 

Elsie  caught  at  the  arm  of  the  settee  for  support. 

"Tell  me  what  you  did  it  for;  was  it  pure  love  of 
mischief?"  asked  her  father,  sternly,  taking  hold  of 
her  arm  and  holding  her  up  by  it. 

"No,  papa,"  she  answered  almost  under  her  breath. 
"I  was  sorry  for  the  little  bird.  I  thought  Arthur 
had  put  it  there  to  torture  it,  and  so  I  let  it  go.  I  did 
not  mean  to  do  wrong,  papa,  indeed  I  did  not,"  and 
the  tears  fell  faster  and  faster. 

"Indeed,"  said  he,  "you  had  no  business  to  meddle 
with  it,  let  who  would  have  put  it  there.  Which  hand 
did  it?" 

"This  one,  papa,"  sobbed  the  child,  indicating  her 
right  hand. 

He  took  it  in  his  and  held  it  a  moment,  while  the 
little  girl  stood  tremblingly  awaiting  what  was  to  come 
next.  He  looked  at  the  downcast,  tearful  face,  the 
bosom  heaving  wih  sobs,  and  then  at  the  little  trembling 
hand  he  held,  so  soft,  and  white,  and  tender,  and  the 
sternness  of  his  countenance  relaxed  somewhat;  it 
seemed  next  to  impossible  to  inflict  pain  upon  any 
thing  so  tender  and  helpless;  and  for  a  moment  he 
was  half  inclined  to  kiss  and  forgive  her.  But  no,  he 
had  been  very  much  irritated  at  his  loss,  and  the  re 
membrance  of  it  again  aroused  his  anger,  and  well- 
nigh  extinguished  the  little  spark  of  love  and  com 
passion  that  had  burned  for  a  moment  in  his  heart. 
She  should  be  punished,  though  he  would  not  inflict 
physical  pain. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  153 

"See,  Elsie,"  laughed  Louise,  maliciously,  "he  is 
feeling  in  his  pocket  for  his  knife.  I  suspect  he  intends 
to  cut  your  hand  off." 

Elsie  started,  and  the  tearful  eyes  were  raised  to  her 
father's  face  with  a  look  half  of  terrified  entreaty, 
half  of  confidence  that  such  could  not  be  his  intention. 

"Hush,  Louise!"  exclaimed  her  brother,  sternly; 
"you  know  you  are  not  speaking  truly,  and  that  I  would 
as  soon  think  of  cutting  off  my  own  hand  as  my 
child's.  You  should  never  speak  anything  but  truth, 
especially  to  children." 

"I  think  it  is  well  enough  to  frighten  them  a  little 
sometimes,  and  I  thought  that  was  what  you  were  go 
ing  to  do,"  replied  Louise,  looking  somewhat  mortified 
at  the  rebuke. 

"No,"  said  her  brother,  "that  is  a  very  bad  plan,  and 
one  which  I  shall  never  adopt.  Elsie  will  learn  in 
time,  if  she  does  not  know  it  now,  that  I  never  utter 
a  threat  which  I  do  not  intend  to  carry  out,  and  never 
break  my  word." 

He  had  drawn  a  handkerchief  from  his  pocket  while 
speaking. 

"I  shall  tie  this  hand  up,  Elsie,"  he  said,  proceed 
ing  to  do  so ;  "those  who  do  not  use  their  hands  aright 
must  be  deprived  of  the  use  of  them.  There!  let  me 
see  if  that  will  keep  it  out  of  mischief.  I  shall  tie  you 
up  hand  and  foot  before  long,  if  you  continue  such 
mischievous  pranks.  Now  go  to  your  room,  and  stay 
there  until  tea-time." 

Elsie  felt  deeply,  bitterly  disgraced  and  humiliated 
as  she  turned  to  obey;  and  it  needed  not  Arthur's  tr*- 


154  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

umphant  chuckle  nor  the  smirk  of  satisfaction  on 
Enna's  face  to  add  to  the  keen  suffering  of  her 
wounded  spirit ;  this  slight  punishment  was  more  to  her 
than  a  severe  chastisement  would  have  been  to  many 
another  child ;  for  the  very  knowledge  of  her  father's 
displeasure  was  enough  at  any  time  to  cause  great 
pain  to  her  sensitive  spirit  and  gentle,  loving  heart. 

Walter,  who  was  far  more  tender-hearted  than 
either  his  brother  or  sister,  felt  touched  by  the  sight  of 
her  distress,  and  ran  after  her  to  say,  "Never  mind, 
Elsie;  I  am  ever  so  sorry  for  you,  and  I  don't  think 
you  were  the  least  bit  naughty." 

She  thanked  him  with  a  grateful  look,  and  a  faint  at 
tempt  to  smile  through  her  tears;  then  hurried  on  to 
her  room,  where  she  seated  herself  in  a  chair  by  the 
window,  and  laying  her  arms  upon  the  sill,  rested  her 
head  upon  them,  and  while  the  bitter  tears  fell  fast 
from  her  eyes  she  murmured  half  aloud,  "Oh!  why 
am  I  always  so  naughty?  always  doing  something  to 
displease  my  dear  papa?  how  I  wish  I  could  be  good, 
and  make  him  love  me!  I  am  afraid  he  never  will  if 
I  vex  him  so  often." 

Then  an  earnest,  importunate  prayer  for  help  to  do 
right,  and  wisdom  to  understand  how  to  gain  her 
father's  love,  went  up  from  the  almost  despairing  lit 
tle  heart  to  Him  whose  ear  is  ever  open  unto  the  cry 
of  His  suffering  children.  And  thus  between  weeping,/ 
mourning,  and  praying,  an  hour  passed  slowly  away/ 
and  the  tea-bell  rang. 

Elsie  started  up,  but  sat  down  again,  feeling  that 
she  would  much  rather  do  without  her  supper  than 


ELSIE    DINSMORE  155 

show  her  tear-swollen  eyes  and  tied-up  hand  at  the 
table. 

But  she  was  not  to  be  left  to  her  choice  in  the  mat 
ter,  for  presently  there  came  a  messenger  bringing  a 
peremptory  command  from  her  father  "to  come  down 
immediately  to  her  supper." 

"Did  you  not  hear  the  bell?"  he  asked,  in  his  stern 
est  tone,  as  she  tremblingly  took  her  seat  at  his  side. 

"Yes,  sir,"  she  answered,  in  a  low,  tremulous  tone. 

"Very  well,  then ;  remember  that  you  are  always  to 
come  down  the  moment  the  bell  rings,  unless  you  are 
directed  otherwise,  or  are  sick;  and  the  next  time 
you  are  so  late,  I  shall  send  you  away  without  your 
meal." 

"I  don't  want  any  supper,  papa,"  she  said,  humbly. 

"Hush,"  he  replied,  severely;  "I  will  have  no  pout 
ing  or  sulking;  you  must  just  eat  your  supper  and  be 
have  yourself.  Stop  this  crying  at  once,"  he  added,  in 
an  undertone,  as  he  spread  some  preserves  on  a  piece 
of  bread  and  laid  it  on  her  plate,  "or  I  shall  take  you 
away  from  the  table,  and  if  I  do,  you  will  be  very 
sorry." 

He  watched  her  a  moment  while  she  made  a  violent 
effort  to  choke  back  her  tears. 

"What  is  your  hand  tied  up  for,  Elsie?"  asked  her 
grandfather;  "have  you  been  hurt?" 

Elsie's  face  flushed  painfully,  but  she  made  no  reply. 

"You  must  speak  when  you  are  spoken  to,"  said  her 
father;  "answer  your  grandfather's  question  at  once." 

"Papa  tied  it  up,  because  I  was  naughty,"  replied  the 
little  girl,  vainly  striving  to  suppress  a  sob. 


156  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

Her  father  made  a  movement  as  if  about  to  lead  her 
from  the  table. 

"O  papa!  don't,"  she  cried,  in  terror;  "I  will  be 
good." 

"Let  me  have  no  more  crying,  then,"  said  he ;  "this 
is  shameful  behavior  for  a  girl  eight  years  old;  it 
would  be  bad  enough  in  a  child  of  Enna's  age,"  He 
took  out  his  handkerchief  and  wiped  her  eyes.  "Now," 
said  he,  "begin  to  eat  your  supper  at  once,  and  don't 
let  me  have  to  reprove  you  again." 

Elsie  tried  to  obey,  but  it  seemed  very  difficult,  in 
deed  almost  impossible,  while  she  knew  that  her  father 
was  watching  her  closely,  and  felt  that  everybody  else 
was  looking  at  her  and  thinking,  "What  a  naughty 
little  girl  you  are!" 

"Oh!"  thought  the  poor  child,  "if  papa  would  only 
quit  looking  at  me,  and  the  rest  would  forget  all  about 
me  and  eat  their  suppers,  maybe  I  could  keep  from 
crying."  Then  she  sent  up  a  silent  prayer  for  help, 
struggling  hard  to  keep  back  the  tears  and  sobs  that 
were  almost  suffocating  her,  and  taking  up  her  slice  of 
bread,  tried  to  eat. 

She  was  very  thankful  to  her  Aunt  Adelaide  for  ad 
dressing  a  question  to  her  papa  just  at  that  moment, 
thus  taking  his  attention  from  her,  and  then  adroitly 
setting  them  all  to  talking  until  the  little  girl  had  had 
time  to  recover  her  composure,  at  least  in  a  measure. 

"May  I  go  to  my  room  now,  papa  ?"  asked  the  timid 
little  voice  as  they  rose  from  the  table. 

"No,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand  and  leading  her  out 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  157 

to  the  veranda,  where  he  settled  himself  in  an  easy- 
chair  and  lighted  a  cigar. 

"Bring  me  that  book  that  lies  yonder  on  the  settee," 
he  commanded. 

She  brought  it. 

"Now,"  said  he,  "bring  that  stool  and  set  yourself 
down  here  close  at  my  knee,  and  let  me  see  if  I  can 
keep  you  out  of  mischief  for  an  hour  or  two." 

"May  I  get  a  book  to  read,  papa?"  she  asked  tim 
idly. 

"No,"  said  he  shortly.  "You  may  just  do  what  I 
bid  you,  and  nothing  more  nor  less." 

She  sat  down  as  he  directed,  with  her  face  turned 
toward  him,  and  tried  to  amuse  herself  with  her  own 
thoughts,  and  watching  the  expression  of  his  coun 
tenance  as  he  read  on  and  on,  turning  leaf  after  leaf, 
too  much  interested  in  his  book  to  take  any  further 
notice  of  her. 

"How  handsome  my  papa  is !"  thought  the  little 
girl,  gazing  with  affectionate  admiration  into  his  face. 
And  then  she  sighed,  and  tears  trembled  in  her  eyes 
again.  She  admired  her  father,  and  loved  him,  "oh! 
so  dearly,"  as  she  often  whispered  to  herself;  but 
would  she  ever  meet  with  anything  like  a  return  of  her 
fond  affection  ?  There  was  an  aching  void  in  her  heart 
which  nothing  else  could  fill ;  must  it  always  be  thus  ? 
was  her  craving  for  affection  never  to  be  satisfied? 
"O,  papa!  my  own  papa,  will  you  never  love  me?" 
mourned  the  sad  little  heart.  "Ah !  if  I  could  only  be 
good  always,  perhaps  he  would;  but  I  am  so  often 
naughty; — whenever  he  begins  to  be  kind  I  am  sure 


158  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

to  do  something  to  vex  him,  and  then  it  is  all  overt 
Oh!  I  wish  I  could  be  good!  I  will  try  very,  very 
hard.  Ah!  if  I  might  climb  on  his  knee  now,  and 
lay  my  head  on  his  breast,  and  put  my  arms  round 
his  neck,  and  tell  him  how  sorry  I  am  that  I  have 
been  naughty,  and  made  him  lose  his  bird;  and  how 
much — oh!  how  much  I  love  him!  But  I  know  I 
never  could  tell  him  that — I  don't  know  how  to  express 
it;  no  words  could,  I  am  sure.  And  if  he  would  for 
give  me,  and  kiss  me,  and  call  me  his  dear  little  daugh 
ter.  Oh!  will  he  ever  call  me  that?  Or  if  I  might 
only  stand  beside  him  and  lay  my  head  on  his  shoul 
der,  and  he  would  put  his  arm  around  me,  it  would 
make  me  so  happy." 

An  exclamation  from  Enna  caused  Elsie  to  turn  her 
head,  and  suddenly  springing  to  her  feet,  she  exclaimed 
in  an  eager,  excited  way,  "Papa,  there  is  a  carriage 
coming  up  the  avenue — it  must  be  visitors;  please, 
please,  papa,  let  me  go  to  my  room." 

"Why?"  he  asked  coolly,  looking  up  from  his  book, 
"why  do  you  wish  to  go  ?" 

"Because  I  don't  want  to  see  them,  papa,"  she  said,, 
hanging  her  head  and  blushing  deeply ;  "I  don't  want 
them  to  see  me." 

"You  are  not  usually  afraid  of  visitors,"  he  re 
plied  in  the  same  cool  tone. 

"But  they  will  see  that  my  hand  is  tied  up,  and 
they  will  ask  what  is  the  matter.  O  papa!  do,  please 
do  let  me  go  quickly,  before  they  get  here,"  she  pleaded 
in  an  agony  of  shame  and  haste. 

"No,"  said  he,  "I  shall  not  let  you  go,  if  ft  were 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  159 

only  to  punish  you  for  getting  off  the  seat  where  I 
bade  you  stay,  without  permission.  You  will  have 
to  learn  that  I  am  to  be  obeyed  at  all  times,  and  under 
all  circumstances.  Sit  down,  and  don't  dare  to  move 
again  until  I  give  you  leave." 

Elsie  sat  down  without  another  word,  but  two  bit 
ter,  scalding  tears  rolled  quickly  down  her  burning 
cheeks. 

"You  needn't  cry,  Elsie,"  said  her  father ;  "it  is  only 
an  old  gentleman  who  comes  to  see  your  grandfather 
on  business,  and  who,  as  he  never  notices  children,  will 
not  be  at  all  likely  to  ask  any  questions.  I  hope  you 
will  learn  some  day,  Elsie,  to  save  your  tears  until 
there  is  really  some  occasion  for  them." 

The  old  gentleman  had  alighted  while  Mr.  Dins- 
more  was  speaking;  Elsie  saw  that  he  was  alone,  and 
the  relief  was  so  great  that  for  once  she  scarcely 
heeded  her  father's  rebuke. 

Another  half-hour  passed,  and  Mr.  Dinsmore  still 
sat  reading,  taking  no  notice  of  Elsie,  who,  afraid  to 
speak  or  move,  was  growing  very  weary  and  sleepy. 
She  longed  to  lay  her  head  on  her  father's  knee,  but 
dared  not  venture  to  take  such  a  liberty ;  but  at  length 
she  was  so  completely  overpowered  by  sleep  as  to  do 
so  unconsciously. 

The  sound  of  his  voice  pronouncing  her  name 
aroused  her. 

"You  are  tired  and  sleepy,"  said  he ;  "if  you  would 
like  to  go  to  bed  you  may  do  so." 

uThank  you,  papa,"  she  replied,  rising  to  her  feet. 


160  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"Well,"  he  said,  seeing  her  hesitate,  "speak,  if  you 
have  anything  to  say." 

"I  am  very  sorry  I  was  naughty,  papa.  Will  you 
please  forgive  me?"  The  words  were  spoken  very 
low,  and  almost  with  a  sob. 

"Will  you  try  not  to  meddle  in  future,  and  not  to  cry 
at  the  table,  or  pout  and  sulk  when  you  are  punished  ?" 
he  asked  in  a  cold,  grave  tone. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  will  try  to  be  a  good  girl  always,"  said 
the  humble  little  voice. 

"Then  I  will  forgive  you,"  he  replied,  taking  the 
handkerchief  off  her  hand. 

Still  Elsie  lingered.  She  felt  as  if  she  could  not  go 
without  some  little  token  of  forgiveness  and  love,  some 
slight  caress. 

He  looked  at  her  with  an  impatient  "Well?"  Then, 
in  answer  to  her  mute  request,  "No,"  he  said,  "I  will 
not  kiss  you  to-night;  you  have  been  entirely  too 
naughty.  Go  to  your  room  at  once." 

Aunt  Chloe  was  absolutely  frightened  by  the  vio 
lence  of  her  child's  grief,  as  she  rushed  into  the  room 
and  flung  herself  into  her  arms  weeping  and  sobbing 
most  vehemently. 

"What's  de  matter,  darlin'?"  she  asked  in  great 
alarm. 

"O  mammy,  mammy!"  sobbed  the  child,  "papa 
wouldn't  kiss  me!  he  said  I  was  too  naughty.  O 
mammy !  will  he  ever  love  me  now  ?" 


CHAPTER    SEVENTH 

"The  smallest  worm  will  turn,  being  trodden  on." 

— SHAKESPEARE,  Richard  III. 

"A  blossom  full  of  promise  is  life's  joy, 
That  never  comes  to  fruit.    Hope,  for  a  time, 
Suns  the  young  flow'ret  in  its  gladsome  light, 
And  it  looks  flourishing — a  little  while — 
'Tis  pass'd,  we  know  not  whither,  but  'tis  gone." 

— Miss  LANDON. 

IT  was  Miss  Day's  custom  to  present  to  the  parents 
of  her  pupils  a  monthly  report  of  their  conduct  and 
recitations.  The  regular  time  for  this  had  occurred 
once  since  Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore's  return,  when  she, 
of  course,  handed  Elsie's  to  him. 

It  was  very  satisfactory,  for  Elsie  was  a  most  dili 
gent  scholar,  carrying  her  religious  principles  into  that 
as  well  as  everything  else;  and  disposed  as  Miss  Day 
was  to  find  fault  with  her,  she  could  seldom  see  any  ex 
cuse  for  so  doing,  in  either  her  conduct  or  recitations. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  glanced  over  the  report  and  handed 
it  back,  saying,  "It  is  all  very  good ;  very  satisfactory 
indeed.  I  am  glad  to  see  that  she  is  industrious  and 
well  behaved,  for  I  wish  her  to  grow  up  an  intelli 
gent  and  amiable  woman." 

Elsie,  who  was  standing  near,  heard  the  words,  and 
161 


162  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

they  sent  a  glow  of  pleasure  to  her  cheeks.  She  looked 
up  eagerly ;  but  her  father  turned  and  walked  away 
without  taking  any  notice  of  her,  and  the  glow  of 
happiness  faded,  and  the  soft  eyes  filled  with  tears 
of  wounded  feeling. 

It  was  now  time  for  a  second  report;  but  alas!  the 
past  month  had  been  a  most  unfortunate  one  for  the 
little  girl;  the  weather  was  very  warm,  and  she  had 
felt  languid  and  weak,  and  so  much  were  her  thoughts 
occupied  with  the  longing  desire  to  gain  her  father's 
love,  so  depressed  were  her  spirits  by  her  constant 
failure  to  do  so,  that  she  often  found  it  impossible  to 
give  her  mind  to  her  lessons. 

Arthur,  too,  during  much  of  the  time  before  and 
since  the  week  of  his  imprisonment,  had  been  more 
than  usually  annoying,  shaking  her  chair  and  jogging 
her  elbow  so  frequently  when  she  was  writing,  that 
her  copy-book  presented  by  no  means  so  good  an  ap 
pearance  as  usual ;  and  never  had  Miss  Day  made  out 
so  poor  a  report  for  her.  She  carried  it  with  much 
secret  satisfaction  to  the  little  girl's  father,  and  en 
tered  a  long  complaint  of  the  child's  idleness  and  inat 
tention. 

"Send  her  to  me,"  he  said,  angrily.  "She  will  find 
me  in  my  own  room." 

Miss  Day  had  left  Elsie  in  the  school-room  putting 
her  desk  in  order  after  the  day's  work,  and  she  found 
her  still  there  on  her  return. 

"Elsie,"  said  she,  with  a  malicious  smile,  "your 
father  wishes  to  see  you  immediately.  He  is  in  his 
room." 


ELSIE    DINSMORE  163 

Th?,  child  turned  red  and  pale  by  turns,  and  trem 
bled  so  violently  that  for  a  moment  she  was  quite  un 
able  to  move;  for  she  guessed  from  Miss  Day's 
countenance  what  was  probably  in  store  for  her. 

"I  advise  you  to  go  at  once,"  said  that  lady,  "for 
no  doubt  the  longer  you  wait  the  worse  it  will  be  for 
you." 

At  the  same  moment  Mr.  Dinsmore's  voice  was 
heard  calling  in  a  stern,  angry  tone,  "Elsie !" 

Making  a  violent  effort  to  control  her  feelings,  she 
started  up  and  hastened  to  obey. 

The  door  of  his  room  stood  open,  and  she  walked 
in,  asking  in  a  trembling  voice,  "Did  you  call  me, 
papa?" 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "I  did.    Come  here  to  me." 

He  was  sitting  with  the  copy-book  and  report  in  his 
hand,  and  there  was  much  severity  in  both  tone  and 
look  as  he  addressed  her. 

She  obeyed  instantly,  but  trembling  violently,  and 
with  a  face  pale  as  death,  and  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
She  lifted  them  pleadingly  to  his  face;  and,  touched 
by  her  evident  terror  and  distress,  he  said  in  a  tone 
somewhat  less  stern,  "Can  you  tell  me,  Elsie,  how  it 
happens  that  your  teacher  brings  me  so  bad  a  report 
of  your  conduct  and  lessons  during  the  past  month? 
She  says  you  have  been  very  idle ;  and  the  report  tells 
the  same  story ;  and  this  copy-book  presents  a  shame 
ful  appearance." 

The  child  answered  only  by  tears  and  sobs. 

They  seemed  to  irritate  him. 


164  ELSIE    DINSMORE 

"Elsie,"  he  said,  sternly,  "when  I  ask  a  question,  I 
require  an  answer,  and  that  instantly." 

"O  papa!"  she  answered,  pleadingly,  "I  couldn't 
study.  I'm  very  sorry — I'll  try  to  do  better — only  don't 
be  very  angry  with  me,  dear  papa." 

"I  am  angry  with  you ;  very  angry,  indeed,"  said  he 
in  the  same  severe  tone,  "and  very  strongly  inclined 
to  punish  you.  You  couldn't  study,  eh?  What  rea 
son  can  you  assign,  pray  ?  Were  you  not  well  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir,"  sobbed  the  little  girl. 

"You  don't  know?  Very  well,  then,  I  think  you 
could  not  be  very  ill  without  knowing  it,  and  so  you 
seem  to  have  no  excuse  at  all  to  offer?  However,  I 
will  not  inflict  any  punishment  upon  you  this  time,  as 
you  seem  to  be  really  sorry,  and  have  promised  to  do 
better;  but  beware  how  you  let  me  see  such  a  report 
as  this,  or  hear  such  complaints  of  idleness  again,  un 
less  you  wish  to  be  severely  punished;  and  I  warn  you 
that  unless  your  next  copy-book  presents  a  better  ap 
pearance  than  this,  I  certainly  shall  punish  you. 

"There  are  a  number  of  pages  here  that  look  quite 
well,"  he  continued,  turning  over  the  leaves;  "that 
shows  what  you  can  do,  if  you  choose;  now  there  is  an 
old  saying,  'A  bird  that  can  sing,  and  won't  sing,  must 
be  made  to  sing.'  Hush !"  as  Elsie  seemed  about  to 
speak ;  "not  a  word.  You  may  go  now."  And  throw 
ing  himself  back  in  his  easy-chair,  he  took  up  a  news 
paper  and  began  to  read. 

Yet  Elsie  lingered;  her  heart  so  yearned  for  one 
word  or  look  of  sympathy  and  love ;  she  so  longed  to 
throw  herself  into  his  arms  and  tell  him  how  dearly, 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  165 

how  very  dearly  she  loved  him ;  she  did  so  hunger  and 
thirst  for  one  fond  caress — ah !  how  could  she  go  away 
without  it  now,  when  for  the  very  first  time  she  found 
herself  alone  with  him  in  his  own  room,  where  she  had 
never  ventured  before,  but  where  she  had  often  been  in 
her  brightest  dreams. 

And  so  she  lingered,  trembling,  hoping,  fearing ;  but 
presently  he  looked  up  with  a  cold  "Why  do  you  stand 
there?  I  gave  you  permission  to  go;  go  at  once." 
And  with  a  sinking  heart  she  turned  away  and  sought 
the  solitude  of  her  own  room,  there  to  weep,  and 
mourn,  and  pray  that  she  might  one  day  possess  the 
love  she  so  pined  for,  and  bitterly  to  reproach  herself 
for  having  by  the  failures  of  the  past  month  put  it 
farther  from  her. 

And  soon  a  thought  came  to  her  which  added  greatly 
to  her  distress.  If  Arthur  continued  his  persecutions, 
how  could  she  make  the  next  copy-book  more  presenta 
ble?  and  in  case  it  were  not,  her  father  had  said  posi 
tively  that  he  would  punish  her;  and  oh!  how  could 
she  bear  punishment  from  him,  when  a  word  or  look 
of  displeasure  almost  broke  her  heart? 

Miss  Day  seldom  remained  in  the  school-room  dur 
ing  the  whole  of  the  writing  hour,  and  sometimes  the 
older  girls  were  also  absent,  so  that  Arthur  had  am 
ple  opportunity  to  indulge  his  mischievous  propensi 
ties  ;  for  Elsie  was  above  the  meanness  of  telling  tales, 
and  had  she  not  been,  Arthur  was  so  great  a  favorite 
with  his  mother  that  she  would  have  brought  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  upon  herself  by  so  doing. 

She  therefore  saw  no  escape  from  the  dreaded  pun- 


166  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

ishment,  unless  she  could  persuade  the  perverse  boy 
to  cease  his  annoyances;  and  of  that  there  was  little 
hope. 

But  she  carried  her  trouble  to  her  Heavenly  Father, 
and  asked  Him  to  help  her.  She  was  still  on  her 
knees,  pouring  out  her  sobs  and  prayers,  when  some 
one  knocked  at  the  door. 

She  rose  and  opened  it  to  find  her  Aunt  Adelaide 
standing  there. 

"Elsie,"  she  said,  "I  am  writing  to  Miss  Rose ;  have 
you  any  word  to  send?  You  may  write  a  little  note,  if 
you  choose,  and  I  will  enclose  it  in  my  letter.  But 
what  is  the  matter,  child?"  she  suddenly  exclaimed, 
kindly  taking  the  little  girl's  hand  in  hers. 

With  many  tears  and  sobs  Elsie  told  her  the  whole 
story,  not  omitting  her  papa's  threat,  and  her  fear 
that  she  could  not,  on  account  of  Arthur's  persecutions, 
avoid  incurring  the  punishment. 

Adelaide's  sympathies  were  enlisted,  and  she  drew 
the  sobbing  child  to  her  side,  saying,  as  she  pressed  a 
kiss  on  her  cheek,  "Never  mind,  Elsie,  I  will  take  my 
book  or  needle-work  to  the  school-room  every  day,  and 
sit  there  during  the  writing  hour.  But  why  don't  you 
tell  your  papa  about  it?" 

"Because  I  don't  like  to  tell  tales,  Aunt  Adelaide, 
and  it  would  make  your  mamma  so  angry  with  me ;  and 
besides,  I  can't  tell  papa  anything." 

"Ah,  I  understand !  and  no  wonder ;  he  is  strangely 
stern  to  the  poor  child.  I  mean  to  give  him  a  good 
talking  to,"  murmured  Adelaide,  more  as  if  thinking 
aloud  than  talking  to  Elsie. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  167 

Then  kissing  the  little  girl  again,  she  rose  hastily 
and  left  the  room,  with  the  intention  of  seeking  her 
brother ;  but  he  had  gone  out ;  and  when  he  returned  he 
brought  several  gentlemen  with  him,  and  she  had  no 
opportunity  until  the  desire  to  interfere  in  the  matter 
had  passed  from  her  mind. 

"And  it  shall  come  to  pass,  that  before  they  call,  I 
will  answer,  and  while  they  are  yet  speaking,  I  will 
hear."  The  promise  had  been  fulfilled  to  Elsie,  and 
help  had  been  sent  her  in  her  trouble. 

When  her  Aunt  Adelaide  left  her,  Elsie — first  care 
fully  locking  the  door  to  guard  against  a  surprise  visit 
from  Enna — went  to  her  bureau,  and  unlocking  a 
drawer,  took  out  a  purse  she  was  knitting  for  her 
father,  to  replace  the  one  she  had  given  to  Miss  Al 
lison. 

She  had  commenced  it  before  his  return,  and  hav 
ing  spent  upon  it  nearly  every  spare  moment  since, 
when  she  could  feel  secure  from  intrusion,  she  now 
had  it  nearly  completed.  Ah!  many  a  silent  tear  had 
fallen  as  she  worked,  and  many  a  sigh  over  disap 
pointed  hopes  had  been  woven  into  its  bright  meshes 
of  gold  and  blue. 

But  now  she  had  been  much  comforted  and  encour 
aged  by  her  aunt's  sympathy  and  kind  promise  of  as 
sistance,  and,  though  there  were  still  traces  of  tears 
upon  it,  the  little  face  looked  quite  bright  and  cheer 
ful  again  as  she  settled  herself  in  her  little  sewing 
chair,  and  began  her  work. 

The  small  white  fingers  moved  right  briskly,  the 
bright  shining  needles  glancing  in  and  out,  while  the 


i68  ELSIE    DINSMORE 

thoughts,  quite  as  busy,  ran  on  something  in  this  fash 
ion  :  "Ah !  I  am  so  sorry  I  have  done  so  badly  the  past 
month;  no  wonder  papa  was  vexed  with  me.  I  don't 
believe  I  ever  had  such  a  bad  report  before.  What 
has  come  over  me?  It  seems  as  if  I  can't  study,  and 
must  have  a  holiday.  I  wonder  if  it  is  all  laziness? 
I'm  afraid  it  is,  and  that  I  ought  to  be  punished.  I 
wish  I  could  shake  it  off,  and  feel  industrious  as  I 
used  to.  I  will  try  very  hard  to  do  better  this  month, 
and  perhaps  I  can.  It  is  only  one  month,  and  then 
June  will  be  over,  and  Miss  Day  is  going  North  to 
spend  July  and  August,  and  maybe  September,  and  so 
we  shall  have  a  long  holiday.  Surely  I  can  stand  it  one 
month  more ;  it  will  soon  be  over,  though  it  does  seem 
a  long  time,  and  besides,  this  month  we  are  not  to 
study  so  many  hours,  because  it  is  so  warm;  and 
there's  to  be  no  school  on  Saturdays;  none  to-mor 
row,  so  that  I  can  finish  this.  Ah!  I  wonder  if  papa 
will  be  pleased?"  and  she  sighed  deeply.  "I'm  afraid 
it  will  be  a  long,  long  time  before  he  will  be  pleased 
with  me  again.  I  have  displeased  him  twice  this  week 
— first  about  the  bird,  and  now  this  bad  report,  and 
that  shameful  copy-book.  But  oh!  I  will  try  so  hard 
next  month,  and  dear  Aunt  Adelaide  will  kee^»  Arthur 
from  troubling  me,  and  I'm  determined  my  copy-book 
shall  look  neat,  and  not  have  a  single  blot  in  it. 

"I  wonder  how  I  shall  spend  the  vacation?  Last 
summer  I  had  such  a  delightful  visit  at  Ashlands ;  and 
then  they  were  here  all  the  rest  of  the  time.  It  was 
then  poor  Herbert  had  such  a  dreadful  time  with 
his  hip.  Ah !  how  thankful  I  ought  to  be  that  I  am  not 


ELSIE    DINSMORE  169 

Jame,  and  have  always  been  so  healthy.  But  I'm  afraid 
papa  won't  let  me  go  there  this  summer,  nor  ask 
them  to  visit  me,  because  he  said  he  thought  Lucy 
was  not  a  suitable  companion  for  me.  I  ivas  very 
naughty  when  she  was  here,  and  I've  been  i.aughty  a 
great  many  times  since.  Oh !  dear,  shall  I  never,  never 
learn  to  be  good?  It  seems  to  me  I  am  naughty  now 
much  oftener  than  I  used  to  be  before  papa  came 
home.  I'm  afraid  he  will  soon  begin  to  punish  me  se 
verely,  as  he  threatened  to-day.  I  wonder  what  he 
means  ?" 

A  crimson  tide  suddenly  swept  over  the  fair  face 
and  neck,  and  dropping  her  work,  she  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands.  "Oh !  he  couldn't,  couldn't  mean  that ! 
how  could  I  ever  bear  it!  and  yet  if  it  would  make' 
me  really  good,  I  think  I  wouldn't  mind  the  pain — but 
the  shame  and  disgrace !  oh !  it  would  break  my  heart. 
I  could  never  hold  up  my  head  again!  Oh!  can  he 
mean  that?  But  I  must  just  try  to  be  so  very  good 
that  I  will  never  deserve  punishment,  and  then  it  will 
make  no  difference  to  me  what  he  means."  And  with 
this  consolatory  reflection  she  took  up  her  work  again. 

"Mammy,  is  papa  in  his  room?"  asked  Elsie,  the 
next  afternoon,  as  she  put  the  finishing  touches  to  her 
work. 

"No,  darlin',  Marster  Horace  he  rode  out  wid  de 
strange  gentlemen  more  than  an  hour  ago." 

Elsie  laid  her  needies  away  in  her  work-basket,  and 
opening  her  writing-desk,  selected  a  bit  of  note-paper, 
on  which  she  wrote  in  her  very  best  hand,  "A  present 
for  my  dear  papa,  from  his  little  daughter  Elsie!' 


170  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

This  she  carefully  pinned  to  the  purse,  and  then  car 
ried  it  to  her  papa's  room,  intending  to  leave  it  on  his 
toilet-table. 

Fearing  that  he  might  possibly  have  returned,  she 
knocked  gently  at  the  door,  but  receiving  no  answer, 
opened  it,  and  went  in ;  but  she  had  not  gone  more  than 
half  way  across  the  room  when  she  heard  his  voice 
behind  her,  asking,  in  a  tone  of  mingled  surprise  and 
displeasure,  "What  are  you  doing  here  in  my  room,  in 
my  absence,  Elsie?" 

She  started,  and  turned  round,  pale  and  trembling, 
and  lifting  her  eyes  pleadingly  to  his  face,  silently 
placed  the  purse  in  his  hand. 

He  looked  first  at  it,  and  then  at  her. 

"I  made  it  for  you,  dear  papa,"  she  said,  in  a  low, 
tremulous  tone ;  "do  please  take  it." 

"It  is  really  very  pretty,"  he  said,  examining  it ;  "is 
it  possible  it  is  your  work?  I  had  no  idea  you  had 
so  much  taste  and  skill.  Thank  you,  daughter ;  I  shall 
take  it,  and  use  it  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure." 

He  took  her  hand  as  he  spoke,  and  sitting  down, 
lifted  her  to  his  knee,  saying,  "Elsie,  my  child,  why  do 
you  always  seem  so  afraid  of  me?  I  don't  like  it." 

With  a  sudden  impulse  she  threw  her  arms  round  his 
neck,  and  pressed  her  lips  to  his  cheek ;  then  dropping 
her  head  on  his  breast,  she  sobbed:  "O  papa!  dear 
papa,  I  do  love  you  so  very  dearly!  will  you  not  love 
me?  O  papa!  love  me  a  little.  I  know  I've  been 
naughty  very  often,  but  I  will  try  to  be  good." 

Then  for  the  first  time  he  folded  her  in  his  arms 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  171 

and  kissed  her  tenderly,  saying,  in  a  moved  tone,  "I  do 
love  you,  my  darling,  my  own  little  daughter." 

Oh !  the  words  were  sweeter  to  Elsie's  ear  than  the 
most  delicious  music!  her  joy  was  too  great  for  words, 
for  anything  but  tears. 

"Why  do  you  cry  so,  my  darling?"  he  asked,  sooth 
ingly,  stroking  her  hair,  and  kissing  her  again  and 
again. 

"O  papa!  because  I  am  so  happy,  so  very  happy/' 
she  sobbed. 

"Do  you  indeed  care  so  very  much  for  my  love  ?"  he 
asked ;  "then,  my  daughter,  you  must  not  tremble  and 
turn  pale  whenever  I  speak  to  you,  as  though  I  were  a 
cruel  tyrant." 

"O  papa !  I  cannot  help  it,  when  you  look  and  speak 
so  sternly.  I  love  you  so  dearly  I  cannot  bear  to 
have  you  angry  with  me;  but  I  am  not  afraid  of  you 
now." 

"That  is  right,"  he  said,  caressing  her  again.  "But 
there  is  the  tea-bell,"  he  added,  setting  her  down. 
"Go  into  the  dressing-room  there,  and  bathe  your 
eyes,  and  then  come  to  me." 

She  hastened  to  do  his  bidding,  and  then  taking 
her  hand  he  led  her  down  and  seated  her  in  her  usual 
place  by  his  side. 

There  were  visitors,  and  all  his  conversation  was 
addressed  to  them  and  the  older  members  of  the  fam 
ily,  but  he  now  and  then  bestowed  a  kind  look  upon 
his  little  girl,  and  attended  carefully  to  all  her  wants; 
and  Elsie  was  very  happy. 

Everything  now  went  on  very  pleasantly  with  our 


172  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

little  friend  for  some  days;  she  did  not  see  a  great 
deal  of  her  father,  as  he  was  frequently  away  from 
home  for  a  day  or  two,  and,  when  he  returned,  gener 
ally  brought  a  number  of  visitors  with  him ;  but  when 
ever  he  did  notice  her  it  was  very  kindly,  and  she  was 
gradually  overcoming  her  fear  of  him,  and  constantly 
hoping  that  the  time  would  soon  come  when  he  would 
have  more  leisure  to  bestow  upon  her.  She  was  happy 
now,  and  with  a  mind  at  ease,  was  able  to  learn  her 
lessons  well ;  and  as  her  Aunt  Adelaide  faithfully  kept 
her  promise,  and  thus  freed  her  from  Arthur's  annoy 
ances,  she  was  enabled  to  do  justice  to  her  writing. 
She  took  great  pains,  her  copy-book  showed  a  marked 
improvement  in  her  penmanship,  and  its  pages  had  not 
yet  been  defaced  by  a  single  blot,  so  that  she  was  look 
ing  forward  with  pleasing  anticipations  to  the  time 
when  her  report  should  again  be  presented  to  her 
father. 

But,  alas !  one  unfortunate  morning  it  happened  that 
Miss  Day  was  in  a  very  bad  humor  indeed — peevish, 
fretful,  irritable,  and  unreasonable  to  the  last  degree; 
and,  as  usual,  Elsie  was  the  principal  sufferer  from 
her  ill-humor.  She  found  fault  with  everything  the 
little  girl  did;  scolded  her,  shook  her,  refused  to  ex 
plain  the  manner  of  working  out  a  very  difficult  exam 
ple,  or  to  permit  her  to  apply  to  any  one  else  for  as 
sistance,  and  then  punished  her  because  it  was  done 
wrong;  and  when  the  child  could  no  longer  keep  back 
her  tears,  called  her  a  baby  for  crying,  and  a  dunce 
for  not  understanding  her  arithmetic  better. 

All  this  Elsie  bore  meekly  and  patiently,  not  answer- 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  173 

ing  a  word;  but  her  meekness  seemed  only  to  pro 
voke  the  governess  the  more ;  and  finally,  when  Elsie 
came  to  recite  her  last  lesson,  she  took  pains  to  put  her 
questions  in  the  most  perplexing  form,  and  scarcely 
allowing  the  child  an  instant  to  begin  her  reply,  an 
swered  them  herself;  then,  throwing  down  the  book, 
scolded  her  vehemently  for  her  bad  lesson,  and  marked 
it  in  her  report  as  a  complete  failure. 

Poor  Elsie  could  bear  no  more,  but  bursting  inlo 
tears  and  sobs,  said :  "Miss  Day,  I  did  know  my  les 
son,  every  word  of  it,  if  you  had  asked  the  questions 
as  usual,  or  had  given  me  time  to  answer." 

'7  say  that  you  did  not  know  it;  that  it  was  a  com 
plete  failure,"  replied  Miss  Day,  angrily;  "and  you 
shall  just  sit  down  and  learn  it,  every  word,  over." 

"I  do  know  it,  if  you  will  hear  me  right,"  said  Elsie, 
indignantly,  "and  it  is  very  unjust  in  you  to  mark  it  a 
failure." 

"Impudence !"  exclaimed  Miss  Day,  furiously ;  "how 
dare  you  contradict  me?  I  shall  take  you  to  your 
father." 

And  seizing  her  by  the  arm,  she  dragged  her  across 
the  room,  and  opening  the  door,  pushed  her  into  the 
passage. 

"Oh !  don't,  Miss  Day,"  pleaded  the  little  girl,  turn 
ing  toward  her,  pale  and  tearful,  "don't  tell  papa." 

"I  will !  so  just  walk  along  with  you,"  was  the  angry 
rejoinder,  as  she  pushed  her  before  her  to  Mr.  Dins- 
more's  door.  It  stood  open,  and  he  sat  at  his  desk, 
writing. 


174  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"What  is  the  matter?"  he  asked,  looking  up  as  they 
appeared  before  the  door. 

"Elsie  has  been  very  impertinent,  sir,"  said  Miss 
Day;  "she  not  only  accused  me  of  injustice,  but  con 
tradicted  me  flatly." 

"Is  it  possible!"  said  he,  frowning  angrily.  "Come 
here  to  me,  Elsie,  and  tell  me,  is  it  true  that  you  con- 
tradicted  your  teacher  ?" 

"Yes,  papa,"  sobbed  the  child. 

"Very  well,  then,  I  shall  certainly  punish  you,  for  I 
will  never  allow  anything  of  the  kind." 

As  he  spoke  he  picked  up  a  small  ruler  that  lay  be 
fore  him,  at  the  same  time  taking  Elsie's  hand  as 
though  he  meant  to  use  it  on  her. 

"O  papa!"  she  cried,  in  a  tone  of  agonized  entreaty. 

But  he  laid  it  down  again,  saying :  "No,  I  shall  pun 
ish  you  by  depriving  you  of  your  play  this  afternoon, 
and  giving  you  only  bread  and  water  for  your  dinner. 
Sit  down  there,"  he  added,  pointing  to  a  stool.  Then, 
with  a  wave  of  his  hand  to  the  governess,  "I  think 
she  will  not  be  guilty  of  the  like  again,  Miss  Day." 

The  governess  left  the  room,  and  Elsie  sat  down  on 
her  stool,  crying  and  sobbing  violently,  while  her 
father  went  on  with  his  writing. 

"Elsie,"  he  said,  presently,  "cease  that  noise;  I 
have  had  quite  enough  of  it." 

She  struggled  to  suppress  her  sobs,  but  it  was  al 
most  impossible,  and  she  felt  it  a  great  relief  when  a 
moment  later  the  dinner-bell  rang,  and  her  father  left 
the  room. 

In  a  few  moments  a  servant  came  in.  carrying  on  a 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  175 

small  waiter  a  tumbler  of  water,  and  a  plate  with  a 
slice  of  bread  on  it. 

"Dis  am  drefful  poor  fare,  Miss  Elsie,"  he  said,  set 
ting  it  down  beside  her,  "but  Massa  Horace  he  say  it 
all  you  can  hab;  but  if  you  say  so,  dis  chile  tell  ole 
Phcebe  to  send  up  somethin'  better  fore  Massa  Horace 
gits  through  his  dinner." 

"Oh !  no,  thank  you,  Pompey ;  you're  very  kind,  but 
I  would  not  disobey  or  deceive  papa,"  replied  the  little 
girl,  earnestly ;  "and  I  am  not  at  all  hungry." 

He  lingered  a  moment,  seeming  loath  to  leave  her  to 
dine  upon  such  fare. 

"You  had  better  go  now,  Pompey,"  she  said  gently  ; 
"I  am  afraid  you  will  be  wanted." 

He  turned  and  left  the  room,  muttering  something 
about  "disagreeable,  good-for-nothing  Miss  Day!" 

Elsie  felt  no  disposition  to  eat ;  and  when  her  father 
returned,  half  an  hour  afterward,  the  bread  and  water 
were  still  untouched. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?"  he  asked  in  a  stern, 
angry  tone ;  "why  have  you  not  eaten  what  I  sent  you  ?" 

"I  am  not  hungry,  papa,"  she  said  humbly. 

"Don't  tell  me  that,"  he  replied,  "it  is  nothing  but 
stubbornness;  and  I  shall  not  allow  you  to  show  such 
a  temper.  Take  up  that  bread  this  moment  and  eat 
it.  You  shall  eat  every  crumb  of  the  bread  and  drink 
every  drop  of  the  water." 

She  obeyed  him  instantly,  breaking  off  a  bit  ot 
bread  and  putting  it  in  her  mouth,  while  he  stood 
watching  her  with  an  air  of  stern,  cold  determination ; 


176  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

but  when  she  attempted  to  swallow,  it  seemed  utterly 
impossible. 

"I  cannot,  papa,"  she  said,  "it  chokes  me." 

"You  must,"  he  replied ;  "I  am  going  to  be  obeyed. 
Take  a  drink  of  water,  and  that  will  wash  it  down." 

It  was  a  hard  task,  but  seeing  that  there  was  no 
escape,  she  struggled  to  obey,  and  at  length  every 
crumb  of  bread  and  drop  of  water  had  disappeared. 

"Now,  Elsie,"  said  her  father,  in  a  tone  of  great  se 
verity,  "never  dare  to  show  me  such  a  temper  as  this 
again ;  you  will  not  escape  so  easily  next  time ;  remem 
ber  I  am  to  be  obeyed  always;  and  when  I  send  you 
anything  to  eat,  you  are  to  eat  it." 

It  had  not  been  temper  at  all,  and  his  unjust  se 
verity  almost  broke  her  heart;  but  she  could  not  say 
one  word  in  her  own  defence. 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment  as  she  sat  there  trem 
bling  and  weeping ;  then  saying,  "I  forbid  you  to  leave 
this  room  without  my  permission ;  don't  venture  to  dis 
obey  me,  Elsie;  sit  where  you  are  until  I  return,"  he 
turned  to  go. 

"Papa,"  she  asked,  pleadingly,  "may  I  have  my 
books,  to  learn  my  lessons  for  to-morrow." 

"Certainly,"  he  said;  "I  will  send  a  servant  with 
them." 

"And  my  Bible  too,  please,  papa." 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  answered  impatiently,  as  he  went 
out  and  shut  the  door. 

Jim  was  just  bringing  up  Elsie's  horse,  as  Mr.  Dins- 
more  passed  through  the  hall,  and  he  stepped  out  to 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  177 

order  it  back  to  the  stable,  saying  that  Miss  Elsie  was 
<not  going  to  ride. 

"What  is  the  trouble  with  Elsie?"  asked  his  sister 
Adelaide,  as  he  returned  to  the  drawing-room  and 
seated  himself  beside  her. 

"She  has  been  impertinent  to  her  governess,  and 
I  have  confined  her  to  my  room  for  the  rest  of  the 
day,"  he  replied,  rather  shortly. 

"Are  you  sure,  Horace,  that  Elsie  was  so  much  to 
blame?"  asked  his  sister,  speaking  in  a  tone  too  low 
to  reach  any  ear  but  his.  "I  am  certain,  from  what 
Lora  tells  me,  that  Miss  Day  is  often  cruelly  unjust 
to  her;  more  so  than  to  any  other  of  her  pupils." 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  good  deal  of  surprise. 

"Are  you  not  mistaken  ?"  he  asked. 

"No!  it  is  a  positive  fact  that  she  does  at  times 
really  abuse  her." 

"Indeed!  I  shall  certainly  not  allow  that,"  he  said, 
coloring  with  anger. 

"But  in  this  instance,  Adelaide,"  he  added  thought 
fully,  "I  think  you  must  be  mistaken,  for  Elsie  ac 
knowledged  that  she  had  been  impertinent.  I  did  not 
condemn  her  unheard,  stern  and  severe  as  you  think 
me." 

"If  she  was,  Horace,  believe  me  it  must  have  been 
only  after  great  provocation,  and  her  acknowledgment' 
of  it  is  no  proof  at  all,  to  my  mind ;  for  Elsie  is  so  hum 
ble,  she  would  think  she  must  have  been  guilty  of  im 
pertinence  if  Miss  Day  accused  her  of  it." 

"Surely  not,  Adelaide;  she  is  by  no  means  wanting 


178  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

in  sense,"  he  replied,  in  a  tone  of  incredulity,  not  un 
mixed  with  annoyance. 

Then  he  sat  thinking  a  moment,  half  inclined  to  go 
to  his  child  and  inquire  more  particularly  into  the  cir 
cumstances,  but  soon  relinquished  the  idea,  saying  to 
himself,  "No;  if  she  does  not  choose  to  be  frank  with 
me,  and  say  what  she  can  in  her  own  defence,  she 
deserves  to  suffer ;  and  besides,  she  showed  such  stub 
bornness  about  eating  that  bread." 

He  was  very  proud,  and  did  not  like  to  acknowledge 
even  to  himself  that  he  had  punished  his  child  unjustly 
— much  less  to  her;  and  it  was  not  until  near  tea-time 
that  he  returned  to  his  room,  entering  so  softly  that 
Elsie  did  not  hear  him. 

She  was  sitting  just  where  he  had  left  her,  bend 
ing  over  her  Bible,  an  expression  of  sadness  and  deep 
humility  on  the  sweet  little  face,  so  young  and  fair  and 
innocent.  She  did  not  seem  aware  of  his  presence  until 
he  was  close  beside  her,  when,  looking  up  with  a  start, 
she  said  in  a  voice  full  of  tears,  "Dear  papa,  I  am  very 
sorry  for  all  my  naughtiness;  will  you  please  forgive 
me?" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "certainly  I  will,  if  you  are  really 
sorry;"  and  stooping,  he  kissed  her  coldly,  saying, 
"Now  go  to  your  room,  and  let  Chloe  dress  you  foi 
tea." 

She  rose  at  once,  gathered  up  her  books,  and  went 
out. 

The  little  heart  was  very  sad ;  for  her  father's  man 
ner  was  so  cold  she  feared  he  would  never  love  her 
again.  And  she  was  particularly  distressed  by  the 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  179 

bad  mark  given  her  for  recitation  that  day,  because 
she  knew  the  time  was  now  drawing  very  near  when 
her  report  must  be  handed  in  to  her  papa;  and  the 
delight  with  which  she  had  hitherto  looked  forward 
to  receiving  his  well-merited  approbation,  was  now 
changed  to  fear,  and  dread  of  his  displeasure;  yet 
she  knew  she  had  not  deserved  the  bad  mark,  and  again 
and  again  she  determined  that  she  would  tell  her  father 
all  about  it;  but  his  manner  had  now  become  so  cold 
and  stern  that  she  could  not  summon  up  courage  to 
do  so,  but  put  it  off  from  day  to  day,  untU  it  was  too 
late. 


CHAPTER   EIGHTH. 


"He  that  pursues  an  act  that  is  attended 
With  doubtful  issues,  for  the  means,  had  need 
Of  policy  and  force  to  make  it  speed." 

—  T.  N  ABB'S  Unfortunate  Mother. 

"Joy  never  feasts  so  high, 
As  when  the  first  course  is  of  misery." 

—  SUCKLING'S  Aglaura. 


IT  was  Friday,  and  the  next  morning  was  the 
when  the  reports  were  to  be  presented.  School  had 
closed,  and  all  but  Elsie  had  already  left  the  room  ;  but 
she  was  carefully  arranging  the  books,  writing  and 
drawing  materials,  etc.,  in  her  desk,  for  she  was  very 
neat  and  orderly  in  her  habits. 

When  she  had  quite  finished  her  work  she  took  up 
her  report-book,  and  glanced  over  it.  As  her  eye 
rested  for  an  instant  upon  the  one  bad  mark,  she 
sighed  a  little,  and  murmured  to  herself,  "I  am  so 
sorry;  I  wish  papa  knew  how  little  I  really  deserved 
it  I  don't  know  why  I  never  can  get  the  courage  to 
tell  him." 

Then,  laying  it  aside,  she  opened  her  copy-book  and 
turned  over  the  leaves  with  unalloyed  pleasure,  for  not 
one  of  its  pages  was  defaced  by  a  single  blot,  and  from 

ISO 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  181 

beginning  to  end  it  gave  evidence  of  painstaking  care 
fulness  and  decided  improvement. 

"Ah !  surely  this  will  please  dear  papa !"  she  ex 
claimed,  half  aloud.  "How  good  Aunt  Adelaide  was 
to  sit  here  with  me !" 

Then,  putting  it  carefully  in  its  place,  she  closed  and 
locked  the  desk,  and  carrying  the  key  to  her  room,  laid 
it  on  the  mantel,  where  she  was  in  the  habit  of  keep 
ing  it. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  afternoon  that  Arthur,  who 
had  made  himself  sick  by  over-indulgence  in  sweet 
meats,  and  had  in  consequence  been  lounging  about  the 
house  doing  nothing  for  the  last  day  or  two,  remained 
at  home  while  all  the  rest  of  the  family  were  out, 
walking,  riding,  or  visiting. 

He  was  not  usually  very  fond  of  reading,  but  while 
lying  on  the  lounge  in  the  nursery,  very  much  in  want 
of  some  amusement,  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that 
he  would  like  to  look  at  a  book  he  had  seen  Elsie  read 
ing  that  morning. 

To  be  sure  the  book  belonged  to  her,  and  she  was 
not  there  to  be  consulted  as  to  her  willingness  to  lend 
it;  but  that  made  no  difference  to  Arthur,  who  had  very 
little  respect  for  the  rights  of  property,  excepting 
where  his  own  were  concerned. 

Elsie,  he  knew,  was  out,  and  Chloe  in  the  kitchen; 
so.  feeling  certain  there  would  be  no  one  to  interfere 
with  him,  he  went  directly  to  the  little  girl's  room  to 
look  for  the  book.  He  soon  found  it  lying  on  the 
mantel ;  but  the  desk-key  lay  right  beside  it,  and  as  he 
caught  sight  of  that  he  gave  a  half  scream  of  delight, 


182  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

for  he  guessed  at  once  to  what  lock  it  belonged,  and 
felt  that  he  now  could  accomplish  the  revenge  he  had 
plotted  ever  since  the  affair  of  the  watch. 

He  put  out  his  hand  to  take  it,  but  drew  it  back 
again,  and  stood  for  a  moment  balancing  in  his  mind 
the  chances  of  detection. 

He  could  deface  Elsie's  copy-book,  but  Adelaide 
could  testify  to  the  little  girl's  carefulness  and  the  neat 
ness  of  her  work  up  to  that  very  day,  for  she  had  been 
in  the  school-room  that  morning  during  the  writing 
hour.  But  then  Adelaide  had  just  left  home  to  pay  a 
visit  to  a  friend  living  at  some  distance,  and  would  not 
return  for  several  weeks,  so  there  was  little  danger 
from  that  quarter.  Miss  Day,  to  be  sure,  knew  the 
appearance  of  Elsie's  book  quite  as  well,  but  there 
was  still  less  danger  of  her  interference,  and  he  was 
pretty  certain  no  one  else  knew. 

So  he  decided  to  run  the  risk,  and  laying  down  the 
book  he  took  the  key,  went  to  the  door,  looked  care 
fully  up  and  down  the  hall  to  make  sure  of  not  beirg 
seen  by  any  of  the  servants,  and  having  satisfied  him 
self  on  that  point,  hurried  to  the  school-room,  un 
locked  Elsie's  desk,  took  out  her  copy-book,  and  dip 
ping  a  pen  in  the  ink,  proceeded  deliberately  to  blot 
nearly  every  page  in  it ;  on  some  he  made  a  large  blot, 
on  others  a  small  one,  and  on  some  two  or  three ;  and 
also  scribbled  between  the  lines  and  on  the  margin,  so 
as  completely  to  deface  poor  Elsie's  work. 

But  to  do  Arthur  justice,  though  he  knew  his 
brother  would  be  pretty  sure  to  be  very  angry  with 
.Elsie,  he  did  not  know  of  the  threatened  punishment. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  183 

He  stopped  once  or  twice  as  he  thought  he  heard  a 
footstep,  and  shut  down  the  lid  until  it  had  passed, 
when  he  raised  it  again  and  went  on  with  his  wicked 
work.  It  did  not  take  long,  however,  and  he  soon  re 
placed  the  copy-book  in  the  precise  spot  in  which  he 
had  found  it,  wiped  the  pen,  and  put  it  carefully  back 
in  its  place,  relocked  the  desk,  hurried  back  to  Elsie's 
room,  put  the  key  just  where  he  had  found  it,  and 
taking  the  book,  returned  to  the  nursery  without  hav 
ing  met  any  one. 

He  threw  himself  down  on  a  couch  and  tried  to 
read,  but  in  vain;  he  could  not  fix  his  attention  upon 
the  page — could  think  of  nothing  but  the  mischief  he 
had  done,  and  its  probable  consequences;  and  now, 
when  it  was  too  late,  he  more  than  half  repented ;  yet 
as  to  confessing  and  thus  saving  Elsie  from  unmer 
ited  blame,  he  did  not  for  a  single  moment  entertain 
the  thought.  But  at  length  it  suddenly  occurred  to 
him  that  if  it  became  known  that  he  had  been  into 
Elsie's  room  to  get  the  book  he  might  be  suspected; 
and  he  started  up  with  the  intention  of  replacing  it. 
But  he  found  that  it  was  too  late ;  she  had  already  re 
turned,  for  he  heard  her  voice  in  the  hall;  so  he  lay 
down  again,  and  kept  the  book  until  she  came  in  search 
of  it. 

He  looked  very  guilty  as  the  little  girl  came  in,  but 
not  seeming  to  notice  it,  she  merely  said,  "I  am  look 
ing  for  my  book.  I  thought  perhaps  some  one  might 
have  brought  it  in  here.  Oh!  you  have  it,  Arthur! 
well,  keep  it,  if  you  wish;  I  can  read  it  just  as  well 
another  time." 


184  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"Here,  take  it,"  said  he  roughly,  pushing  it  toward 
her;  "I  don't  want  it;  'tisn't  a  bit  pretty." 

"I  think  it  is  very  interesting,  and  you  are  quite  wel 
come  to  read  it  if  you  wish,"  she  answered  mildly; 
"but  if  you  don't  care  to,  I  will  take  it." 

"Young  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  the  governess, 
as  they  were  about  closing  their  exercises  the  next 
morning,  "this  is  the  regular  day  for  the  reports,  and 
they  are  all  made  out.  Miss  Elsie,  here  is  yours ;  bring 
your  copy-book,  and  carry  both  to  your  papa." 

Elsie  obeyed,  not  without  some  trembling,  yet  hop 
ing,  as  there  was  but  one  bad  mark  in  the  report  and 
the  copy-book  showed  such  evident  marks  of  care  and 
painstaking,  her  papa  would  not  be  very  seriously  dis 
pleased. 

It  being  the  last  day  of  the  term,  the  exercises  of 
the  morning  had  varied  somewhat  from  the  usual 
routine,  and  the  writing  hour  had  been  entirely 
omitted;  thus  it  happened  that  Elsie  had  not  opened 
her  copy-book,  and  was  in  consequence  still  in  ignor 
ance  of  its  sadly  altered  appearance. 

She  found  her  father  in  his  room.  He  took  the  re 
port  first  from  her  hand,  and  glancing  over  it,  said 
with  a  slight  frown,  "I  see  you  have  one  very  bad  mark 
for  recitation ;  but  as  there  is  only  one,  and  the  others 
are  remarkably  good,  I  will  excuse  it." 

Then  taking  the  copy-book  and  opening  it,  much  to 
Elsie's  surprise  and  alarm  he  gave  her  a  glance  of 
great  displeasure,  turned  rapidly  over  the  leaves,  then 
laying  it  down,  said  in  his  sternest  tones,  "I  see  I  shall 
have  to  keep  my  promise,  Elsie.*' 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  185 

"What,  papa?"  she  asked,  turning  paie  with  terror. 

"What!"  said  he!  "do  you  ask  me  what?  Did  I 
not  tell  you  positively  that  I  would  punish  you  if  your 
copy-book  this  month  did  not  present  a  better  appear 
ance  than  it  did  last?" 

4iO  papa!  does  it  not?  I  tried  so  very  hard;  and 
there  are  no  blots  in  it." 

"No  blots  ?"  said  he ;  "what  do  you  call  these  ?"  and 
he  turned  over  the  leaves  again,  holding  the  book  so 
that  she  could  see  them,  and  showing  that  almost  every 
one  was  blotted  in  several  places. 

Elsie  gazed  at  them  in  unfeigned  astonishment;  then 
looking  up  into  his  face,  she  said  earnestly  but  fear 
fully,  "Papa,  I  did  not  do  it." 

"Who  did,  then?"  he  asked. 

"Indeed,  papa,  I  do  not  know,"  she  replied. 

"I  must  inquire  into  this  business,"  he  said,  rising, 
"and  if  it  is  not  your  fault  you  shall  not  be  punished ; 
but  if  I  find  you  have  been  telling  me  a  falsehood, 
Elsie,  I  shall  punish  you  much  more  severely  than  if 
you  had  not  denied  your  fault." 

And  taking  her  by  the  hand  as  he  spoke,  he  led  her 
back  to  the  school-room. 

"Miss  Day,"  said  he,  showing  the  book,  "Elsie  says 
these  blots  are  not  her  work;  can  you  tell  me  whose 
they  are?" 

"Miss  Elsie  generally  tells  the  truth,  sir,"  replied 
Miss  Day,  sarcastically,  "but  I  must  say  that  in  this  in 
stance  I  think  she  has  failed,  as  her  desk  has  a  good 
lock,  and  she  herself  keeps  the  key." 

"Elsie,"  he  asked,  turning  to  her,  "is  this  so?" 


186  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"Yes,  papa." 

''And  have  you  ever  left  your  desk  unlocked,  or  the 
key  lying  about?" 

''No,  papa.  I  am  quite  certain  I  have  not,"  she  an 
swered  unhesitatingly,  though  her  voice  trembled,  and 
she  grey  very  pale. 

"Very  well,  then,  /  am  quite  certain  you  have  told  me 
a  falsehood,  since  it  is  evident  this  must  have  been  your 
work.  Elsie,  I  can  forgive  anything  but  falsehood, 
but  that  I  never  will  forgive.  Come  with  me.  I  shall 
teach  you  to  speak  the  truth  to  me  at  least,  if  to  no  one 
else,"  and  taking  her  hand  again,  he  led,  or  rather 
dragged,  her  from  the  room,  for  he  was  terribly  an 
gry,  his  face  fairly  pale  with  passion. 

Lora  came  in  while  he  was  speaking  and,  certain  that 
Elsie  would  never  be  caught  in  a  falsehood,  her  eye 
quickly  sought  Arthur's  desk. 

He  was  sitting  there  with  a  very  guilty  countenance. 

She  hastily  crossed  the  room,  and  speaking  in  a  low 
tone,  said,  "Arthur,  you  have  had  a  hand  in  this  busi 
ness  I  very  well  know;  now  confess  it  quickly,  or 
Horace  will  half  kill  Elsie." 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  said  he 
doggedly. 

"Yes,  I  do,"  she  answered ;  "and  if  you  do  not  speak 
<<dut  at  once,  7  shall  save  Elsie,  and  find  means  to  prove 
your  guilt  afterwards;  so  you  had  much  better  con 
fess." 

"Go  away,"  he  exclaimed  angrily,  "I  have  nothing 
to  confess." 

Seeing  it  was  useless  to  try  to  move  him,  Lor» 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  187 

turned  away  and  hurried  to  Horace's  room,  which,  in 
her  haste,  she  entered  without  knocking,  he  having 
fortunately  neglected  to  fasten  the  door.  She  was  just 
in  time;  he  had  a  small  riding  whip  in  his  hand,  and 
Elsie  stood  beside  him  pale  as  death,  too  much  fright 
ened  even  to  cry,  and  trembling  so  that  she  could 
scarcely  stand. 

He  turned  an  angry  glance  on  his  sister  as  she  en 
tered;  but  taking  no  notice  of  it,  she  exclaimed  eag 
erly,  "Horace,  don't  punish  Elsie,  for  I  am  certain  she 
is  innocent." 

He  laid  down  the  whip  asking,  "How  do  you  know 
it?  what  proof  have  you?  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  be 
convinced,"  he  added,  his  countenance  relaxing  some 
what  in  its  stern  and  angry  expression. 

"In  the  first  place,"  replied  his  sister,  "there  is  Elsie's 
established  character  for  truthfulness — in  all  the  time 
she  has  been  with  us,  we  have  ever  found  her  per 
fectly  truthful  in  word  and  deed.  And  then,  Horace, 
what  motive  could  she  have  had  for  spoiling  her  book, 
knowing  as  she  did  that  certain  punishment  would  fol 
low?  Besides,  I  am  sure  Arthur  is  at  the  bottom  of 
this,  for  though  he  will  not  acknowledge,  he  does  not 
deny  it.  Ah!  yes,  and  now  I  recollect,  I  saw  and 
examined  Elsie's  book  only  yesterday,  and  it  was  then 
quite  free  from  blots." 

A  great  change  had  come  over  her  brother's  counte 
nance  while  she  was  speaking. 

"Thank  you,  Lora,"  he  said,  cordially,  as  soon  as 
she  had  done,  "you  have  quite  convinced  me,  and  saved 
me  from  punishing  Elsie  as  unjustly  as  severely.  That 


i8S'  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

last  assurance  I  consider  quite  sufficient  of  itself  to  es 
tablish  her  innocence." 

Lora  turned  and  went  out  feeling  very  happy,  and 
as  she  closed  the  door,  Elsie's  papa  took  her  in  his 
arms,  saying  in  loving,  tender  tones,  "My  poor  little 
daughter !  my  own  darling  child !  I  have  been  cruelly 
unjust  to  you,  have  I  not?" 

"Dear  papa,  you  thought  I  deserved  it,"  she  said, 
with  a  burst  of  tears  and  sobs,  throwing  her  arms 
around  his  neck,  and  laying  her  head  on  his  breast. 

"Do  you  love  me,  Elsie,  dearest?"  he  asked,  fold 
ing  her  closer  to  his  heart. 

"Ah!  so  very,  very  much!  better  than  all  the  world 
beside.  O  papa!  if  you  would  only  love  me."  The 
last  word  was  almost  a  sob. 

"I  do,  my  darling,  my  own  precious  child,"  he  said, 
caressing  her  again  and  again.  "I  do  love  my  lit 
tle  girl,  although  I  may  at  times  seem  cold  and  stern  ; 
and  I  am  more  thankful  than  words  can  express  that 
I  have  been  saved  from  punishing  her  unjustly.  I 
coulr1  never  forgive  myself  if  I  had  done  it.  I  would 
rather  have  lost  half  I  am  worth;  ah!  I  fear  it  would 
have  turned  all  her  love  for  me  into  hatred ;  and  justly, 
too." 

"No,  papa,  oh!  no,  no;  nothing  could  ever  do  that!" 
and  the  little  arms  were  clasped  closer  and  closer 
about  his  neck,  and  the  tears  again  fell  like  rain,  as 
she  timidly  pressed  her  quivering  lips  to  his  cheek. 

"There,  there  daughter!  don't  cry  any  more;  we 
will  try  to  forget  all  about  it,  and  talk  of  something 
else,"  he  said  soothingly.  "Elsie,  dear,  your  Aunt 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  189 

Adelaide  thinks  perhaps  you  were  not  so  very  much 
to  blame  the  other  day;  and  now  I  want  you  to  tell 
me  all  the  circumstances ;  for  though  I  should  be  very 
sorry  to  encourage  you  to  find  fault  with  your  teacher. 
I  am  by  no  means  willing  to  have  you  abused." 

"Please,  papa,  don't  ask  me,"  she  begged.  "Aunl 
Lora  was  there,  and  she  will  tell  you  about  it." 

"No,  Elsie,"  he  said,  very  decidedly;  "I  want  th( 
story  from  you;  and  remember,  I  want  every  word 
that  passed  between  you  and  Miss  Day,  as  far  as  you 
can  possibly  recall  it." 

Seeing  that  he  was  determined,  Elsie  obeyed  him, 
though  with  evident  reluctance,  and  striving  to  put 
Miss  Day's  conduct  in  as  favorable  a  light  as  consist 
ent  with  truth,  while  she  by  no  means  extenuated  her 
own;  yet  her  father  listened  with  feelings  of  strong 
indignation. 

"Elsie,"  he  said  when  she  had  done,  "if  I  had 
known  all  this  at  the  time,  I  should  not  have  punished 
you  at  all.  Why  did  you  not  tell  me,  my  daughter, 
how  you  have  been  ill  treated  and  provoked?" 

"O  papa!  I  could  not;  you  know  you  did  not  ask 
me." 

"I  did  ask  you  if  it  was  true  that  you  contradicted 
her,  did  I  not?" 

"Yes,  papa,  and  it  was  true." 

"You  ought  to  have  told  me  the  whole  story  though ; 
but  I  see  how  it  was — I  frightened  you  by  my  stern 
ness.  Well,  daughter,"  he  added,  kissing  her  tenderly, 
"I  shall  endeavor  to  be  less  stern  in  future,  and  you 


190  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

must  try  to  be  less  timid  and  more  at  your  ease  with 
me." 

"I  will,  papa,"  she  replied  meekly;  "but  indeed  I 
cannot  help  feeling  frightened  when  you  are  angry 
with  me." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  sat  there  a  long  time  with  his  little 
daughter  on  his  knee,  caressing  her  more  tenderly 
than  ever  before;  and  Elsie  was  very  happy,  and 
talked  more  freely  to  him  than  she  had  ever  done,  tell 
ing  him  of  her  joys  and  her  sorrows;  how  dearly  she 
had  loved  Miss  Allison — what  happy  hours  they  had 
spent  together  in  studying  the  Bible  and  in  prayer — 
how  grieved  she  was  when  her  friend  went  away — • 
and  how  intensely  she  enjoyed  the  little  letter  now 
and  then  received  from  her;  and  he  listened  to  it  all, 
apparently  both  pleased  and  interested,  encouraging  her 
to  go  on  by  an  occasional  question  or  a  word  of  as 
sent  or  approval. 

"What  is  this,  Elsie?"  he  asked,  taking  hold  of  the 
chain  she  always  wore  around  her  neck,  and  drawing 
the  miniature  from  her  bosom. 

But  as  he  touched  the  spring  the  case  flew  open, 
revealing  the  sweet,  girlish  face,  it  needed  not  Elsie's 
low  murmured  "Mamma"  to  tell  him  who  that  lovely 
lady  was. 

He  gazed  upon  it  with  emotion,  carried  back  in 
memory  to  the  time  when  for  a  few  short  months  she 
had  been   his  own  most  cherished  treasure.      Then,  I 
looking  from  it  to  his  child,  he  murmured,  "Yes,  she 
is  very  like — the  same  features,  the  same  expression, 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  191 

complexion,  hair  and  all — will  be  the  very  counter 
part  of  her  if  she  lives." 

"Dear  papa,  am  I  like  mamma?"  asked  Elsie,  who 
had  caught  a  part  of  his  words. 

"Yes,  darling,  very  much  indeed,  and  I  hope  you 
will  grow  more  so." 

"You  loved  mamma?"  she  said  inquiringly. 

"Dearly,  very  dearly." 

"O  papa!  tell  me  about  her!  do,  dear  papa,"  she 
pleaded  eagerly. 

"I  have  not  much  to  tell,"  he  said,  sighing.  "I  knew 
her  only  for  a  few  short  months  ere  we  were  torn 
asunder,  never  to  meet  again  on  earth." 

"But  we  may  hope  to  meet  her  in  heaven,  dear 
papa,"  said  Elsie  softly,  "for  she  loved  Jesus,  and  if 
we  love  Him  we  shall  go  there  too  when  we  die.  Do 
you  love  Jesus,  papa?"  she  timidly  inquired,  for  she 
had  seen  him  do  a  number  of  things  which  she  knew 
to  be  wrong — such  as  riding  out  for  pleasure  on  the 
Sabbath,  reading  secular  newspapers,  and  engaging 
in  worldly  conversation — and  she  greatly  feared  hf 
did  not. 

]Sut  instead  of  answering  her  question,  he  asked, 
"Do  you,  Elsie?" 

"Oh!  yes,  sir;  very  very  much;  even  better  than 
I  love  you,  my  own  dear  papa." 

"How  do  you  know  ?"  he  asked,  looking  keenly  into 
her  face. 

"Just  as  I  know  that  I  love  you,  papa,  or  any  one 
else,"  she  replied,  lifting  her  eyes  to  his  face  in  evi 
dent  surprise  at  the  strangeness  of  the  question. 


192  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"Ah,  papa,"  she  added  in  her  own  sweet,  simple  way, 
"I  do  so  love  to  talk  of  Jesus;  to  tell  Him  all  my 
troubles,  and  ask  Him  to  forgive  my  sins  and  make 
me  holy ;  and  then  it  is  so  sweet  to  know  that  He  loves 
me,  and  will  always  love  me,  even  if  no  one  else  does." 

He  kissed  her  very  gravely,  and  set  her  down,  say- 
Ing,  "Go  now,  my  daughter,  and  prepare  for  dinner ;  it 
is  almost  time  for  the  bell." 

"You  are  not  displeased,  papa?"  she  inquired,  look 
ing  up  anxiously  into  his  face. 

"No,  darling,  not  at  all,"  he  replied,  stroking  her 
hair.  "Shall  I  ride  with  my  little  girl  this  afternoon  ?" 

"Oh  papa!  do  you  really  mean  it?  I  shall  be  so 
glad!"  she  exclaimed  joyfully. 

"Very  well,  then,"  he  said,  "it  is  settled.  But  go 
now;  there  is  the  bell.  No,  stay!"  he  added  quickly, 
Us  she  turned  to  obey;  "think  a  moment  and  tell  me 
inhere  you  put  the  key  of  your  desk  yesterday,  for  it 
/mist  have  been  then  the  mischief  was  done.  Had  you 
it  with  you  when  you  rode  out  ?" 

Suddenly  Elsie's  face  flushed,  and  she  exclaimed 
feagerly,  "Ah !  I  remember  now !  I  left  it  on  the  mantel 
piece,  papa,  and " 

But  here  she  paused,  as  if  sorry  she  had  said  so 
much. 

"And  what?"  he  asked. 

"I  think  I  had  better  not  say  it,  papa!  I'm  afraid  I 
ought  not,  for  I  don't  really  know  anything,  and  it 
seems  so  wrong  to  suspect  people." 

"You  need  not  express  any  suspicions,"  said  her 
father;  "I  do  not  wish  you  to  do  so;  but  I  must  insist 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  193 

upon  having  all  the  facts  you  can  furnish  me  with. 
Was  Aunt  Chloe  in  your  room  all  the  time  you  were 
away?" 

"No,  sir ;  she  told  me  she  went  down  to  the  kitchen 
directly  after  I  left,  and  did  not  come  up  again  until 
after  I  returned." 

"Very  well;  do  you  know  whether  any  one  else  en 
tered  the  room  during  your  absence?" 

"I  do  not  know,  papa,  but  I  think  Arthur  must  have 
been  in,  because  when  I  came  home  I  found  him  read- 
ing  a  book  which  I  had  left  lying  on  the  mantel-piece/' 
she  answered  in  a  low,  reluctant  tone. 

"Ah,  ha!  that  is  just  it!  I  see  it  all  now,"  he  ex^ 
claimed,  with  a  satisfied  nod.  "There,  that  will  dt*, 
Elsie;  go  now  and  make  haste  down  to  your  dinner." 

But  Elsie  lingered,  and,  in  answer  to  a  look  of  kind 
inquiry  from  her  father,  said  coaxingly,  "Please,  papa, 
don't  be  very  angry  with  him.  I  think  he  did  not 
know  how  much  I  cared  about  my  book." 

"You  are  very  forgiving,  Elsie;  but  go,  child,  I 
shall  not  abuse  him,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  answered,  with 
an  imperative  gesture,  and  the  little  girl  hurried  from 
the  room. 

It  happened  that  just  at  this  time  the  elder  Mr. 
Dinsmore  and  his  wife  were  paying  a  visit  to  some 
friends  in  the  city,  and  thus  Elsie's  papa  had  been  left 
head  of  the  house  for  the  time.  Arthur,  knowing  this 
to  be  the  state  of  affairs,  and  that  though  his  father 
was  expected  to  return  that  evening,  his  mother  would 
be  absent  for  some  days,  was  beginning  to  be  a  good 
deal  fearful  of  the  consequences  of  his  misconduct, 


194  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

and  not  without  reason,  for  his  brother's  wrath  was 
now  fully  aroused,  and  he  was  determined  that  the 
boy  should  not  on  this  occasion  escape  the  penalty  of 
his  misdeeds. 

Arthur  was  already  in  the  dining-room  when  Mr. 
Dinsmore  came  down. 

"Arthur,"  said  he,  "I  wish  you  to  step  into  the  li 
brary  a  moment ;  I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

"I  don't  want  to  hear  it,"  muttered  the  boy,  with  a 
dogged  look,  and  standing  perfectly  still. 

"I  dare  say  not,  sir;  but  that  makes  no  difference," 
replied  his  brother.  "Walk  into  the  library  at  once." 

Arthur  returned  a  scowl  of  defiance,  muttering  al 
most  under  his  breath,  "I'll  do  as  I  please  about  that ;" 
but  cowed  by  his  brother's  determined  look  and  man 
ner,  he  slowly  and  reluctantly  obeyed. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore,  when  he  had  him 
fairly  in  the  room,  and  had  closed  the  door  behind 
them,  "I  wish  to  know  how  you  came  to  meddle  with 
Elsie's  copy-book." 

"I  didn't,"  was  the  angry  rejoinder. 

"Take  care,  sir ;  I  know  all  about  it,"  said  Mr.  Dins- 
more,  in  a  warning  tone;  "it  is  useless  for  you  to 
deny  it.  Yesterday,  while  Elsie  was  out  and  Aunt 
Chloe  in  the  kitchen,  you  went  to  her  room,  took  the 
key  of  her  desk  from  the  mantel-piece  where  she  had 
left  it,  went  to  the  school-room  and  did  the  mischief, 
hoping  to  get  her  into  trouble  thereby,  and  then  re- 
locking  the  desk  and  returning  the  key  to  its  proper 
place,  thought  you  had  escaped  detection;  and  I  wa* 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  195 

very  near  giving  my  poor,  innocent  little  girl  the  whip 
ping  you  so  richly  deserve." 

Arthur  looked  up  in  astonishment. 

"Who  told  you?"  he  asked;  "nobody  saw  me;" 
then,  catching  himself,  said  hastily,  "I  tell  you  I  didn't 
do  it.  I  don't  know  anything  about  it." 

"Will  you  dare  to  tell  me  such  a  falsehood  as  that 
again?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Dinsmore,  angrily,  taking  him 
by  the  collar  and  shaking  him  roughly. 

"Let  me  alone  now,"  whined  the  culprit.  "I  want 
my  dinner,  I  say." 

"You'll  get  no  dinner  to-day,  I  can  tell  you,"  re 
plied  his  brother.  "I  am  going  to  lock  you  into  your 
bedroom,  and  keep  you  there  until  your  father  comes 
home ;  and  then  if  he  doesn't  give  you  the  flogging  you 
deserve,  /  will;  for  I  intend  you  shall  have  your  de 
serts  for  once  in  your  life.  I  know  that  all  this  is  in 
revenge  for  Elsie's  forced  testimony  in  the  affair  of 
the  watch,  and  I  gave  you  fair  warning  then  that  I 
would  see  to  it  that  any  attempt  to  abuse  my  child 
should  receive  its  just  reward." 

He  took  the  boy  by  the  arm  as  he  spoke,  to  lead  him 
from  the  room. 

At  first  Arthur  seemed  disposed  to  resist;  but  soon, 
seeing  how  useless  it  was  to  contend  against  such 
odds,  he  resigned  himself  to  his  fate,  saying  sullenly, 
"You  wouldn't  treat  me  this  way  if  mamma  was  at 
home." 

"She  is  not,  however,  as  it  happens,  though  I  can 
tell  you  that  even  she  could  not  save  you  now,"  re 
plied  his  brother,  as  he  opened  the  bedroom  door,  and 


196  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

pushing  him  in,  locked  it  upon  him,  and  put  the  key 
in  his  pocket. 

Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore  had  almost  unbounded  influ 
ence  over  his  father,  who  was  very  proud  of  him ;  the 
old  gentleman  also  utterly  despised  everything  mean 
and  underhanded,  and  upon  being  made  acquainted  by 
Horace  with  Arthur's  misdemeanors  he  inflicted  upon 
him  as  severe  a  punishment  as  any  one  could  have  de 
sired. 


CHAPTER  NINTH 

"Keep  the  Sabbath  day  to  sanctify  it,  as  the  Lord  thy 
hath  commanded  thee." — Deut.  v.  12. 

"She  is  mine  own; 
And  I  as  rich  in  having  such  a  jewel 
As  twenty  seas,  if  all  their  sand  were  pearl, 
The  water  nectar,  and  the  rocks  pure  gold." 

— SHAKESPEARE,  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

AND  now  happy  days  had  come  to  the  little  Elsie. 
Her  father  treated  her  with  the  tenderest  affection, 
and  kept  her  with  him  almost  constantly,  seeming 
scarcely  willing  to  have  her  out  of  his  sight  for  an 
hour.  He  took  her  with  him  wherever  he  went  in  his 
rides  and  walks  and  visits  to  the  neighboring  planters. 

She  was  much  admired  for  her  beauty  and  sweet 
ness  of  disposition,  much  caressed  and  flattered,  but, 
through  it  all,  lost  none  of  her  native  modesty,  but 
was  ever  the  same  meek,  gentle  little  girl.  She  felt 
grateful  for  all  the  kindness  she  received,  and  liked  to 
visit  with  her  papa;  but  her  happiest  days  were  spent 
at  home  on  those  rare  occasions  when  they  were  free 
from  visitors,  and  she  could  sit  for  hours  on  his  knee, 
or  by  his  side,  talking  or  reading  to  him,  or  working 
at  her  embroidery,  or  knitting  and  listening  while  he 

197 


I98  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

read.  He  helped  her  with  all  her  studies,  taught  her 
something1  of  botany  and  geology  in  their  walks, 
helped  her  to  see  and  correct  the  faults  of  her  draw- 
Ings,  sang  with  her  when  she  played,  bought  her  quan 
tities  of  new  music,  and  engaged  the  best  masters  to 
Instruct  her — in  short,  took  a  lively  interest  in  all  her 
pursuits  and  pleasures,  gave  her  every  indulgence, 
dnd  lavished  upon  her  the  tenderest  caresses.  He  was 
very  proud  of  her  beauty,  her  sweetness,  her  intelli 
gence,  and  talent;  and  nothing  pleased  him  better 
than  to  hear  them  spoken  of  by  others  in  terms  of 
praise. 

And  Elsie  was  very  happy;  the  soft  eyes  grew 
bright  with  happiness,  and  the  little  face  lost  its  pen 
sive  expression,  and  became  as  round,  rosy  and  merry 
as  Enna's. 

Miss  Day  went  North,  expecting  to  be  absent  sev 
eral  months,  and  Elsie's  papa  took  her  traveling, 
spending  some  time  at  different  watering-places.  It 
was  her  first  journey  since  she  had  been  old  enough 
to  care  for  such  things,  and  she  enjoyed  it  exceedingly. 
They  left  home  in  July,  and  did  not  return  until  Sep 
tember,  so  that  the  little  girl  had  time  to  rest  and 
recruit,  both  mentally  and  physically,  and  was  ready 
to  begin  her  studies  again  with  zeal  and  energy;  yet 
it  was  so  pleasant  to  be  her  papa's  constant  companion, 
and  she  had  so  enjoyed  her  freedom  from  the  re 
straints  of  the  school-room,  that  she  was  not  at  all 
sorry  to  learn,  on  their  arrival  at  Roselands,  that  the 
governess  would  still  be  absent  for  some  weeks. 

"How  bright  and  happy  the  child  looks !"  was  Ade- 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  199 

laide's  remark  on  the  day  of  their  return,  as,  from  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room,  she  watched  the  speaking 
countenance  of  the  little  girl,  who  was  giving  Enna 
and  the  boys  an  animated  description  of  her  journey. 

"Yes,"  said  Lora,  "and  how  entirely  she  seems  to 
have  overcome  her  fear  of  her  father!"  for  at  that  in 
stant  Elsie  suddenly  left  the  little  group,  and  running 
to  him,  leaned  confidingly  on  his  knee,  while  appar 
ently  urging  some  request,  which  he  answered  with 
a  smile  and  a  nod  of  acquiescence;  when  she  left  the 
room,  and  presently  returned  carrying  a  richly  bound 
book  of  engravings. 

Yes,  Elsie  had  lost  her  fear  of  her  father,  and  could 
now  talk  to  him,  and  tell  him  her  feelings  and  wishes, 
as  freely  as  ever  Enna  did ;  and  no  wonder,  for  in  all 
these  weeks  he  had  never  given  her  one  harsh  word 
or  look;  but  indeed  he  had  had  no  occasion  to  do  so, 
for  she  was  always  docile  and  obedient. 

It  was  Sabbath  afternoon — the  first  Sabbath  after 
their  return — and  Elsie  was  in  her  own  room  alone 
with  the  books  she  loved  best — her  Bible,  hymnbook, 
and  "Pilgrim's  Progress." 

She  had  spent  a  very  happy  hour  in  self-examina 
tion,  reading  and  prayer,  and  was  singing  to  herself 
in  a  low  tone  her  favorite  hymn, 

"I   lay   my    sins    on    Jesus," 

while  turning  over  the  leaves  of  her  Bible  to  find  the 
story  of  Elijah,  which  she  had  promised  to  read  to 
Chloe  that  afternoon,  when  a  child's  footsteps  were 
heard  coming  down  the  hall,  the  handle  of  the  door 


200  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

was  turned  hastily,  and  then,  as  it  refused  to  yield, 
Enna's  voice  called  out  in  a  fretful,  imperious  tone, 
"Open  this  door,  Elsie  Dinsmore.  I  want  in,  I  say." 

Elsie  sighed,  as  she  thought,  "There  is  an  end  to 
my  nice  afternoon,"  but  she  rose  at  once,  and  quickly 
crossing  the  room,  opened  the  door,  asking  pleasantly, 
"What  do  you  want,  Enna?" 

"I  told  you  I  wanted  to  come  in"  replied  Enna, 
saucily,  "and  now  you've  got  to  tell  me  a  story  to 
amuse  me;  mamma  says  so,  because  you  know  I've 
got  a  cold,  and  she  won't  let  me  go  out." 

"Well,  Enna,"  said  Elsie,  patiently,  "I  am  going  to 
read  a  very  beautiful  story  to  mammy,  and  you  are 
quite  welcome  to  sit  here  and  listen." 

"I  sha'n't  have  it  read!  I  said  you  were  to  tell  it. 
I  don't  like  to  hear  reading,"  replied  Enna  in  her  im 
perious  way,  at  the  same  time  taking  quiet  possession 
of  Elsie's  little  rosewood  rocking-chair — a  late  present 
from  her  papa,  and  highly  prized  by  the  little  girl  on 
that  account — and  beginning  to  scratch  with  her  thumb 
nail  upon  the  arm. 

"Oh!  don't  scratch  my  pretty  new  chair,  Enna!" 
Elsie  entreated;  "it  is  papa's  present,  and  I  wouldn't 
have  it  spoiled  for  a  great  deal." 

"I  will;  who  cares  for  your  old  chair?"  was  the  re 
ply  in  a  scornful  tone,  as  she  gave  another  and  harder 
dig  with  her  nail.  "You're  a  little  old  maid — so  par 
ticular  with  all  your  things — that's  what  mamma  says 
you  are.  Now  tell  me  that  story." 

"I  will  tell  you  a  story  if  you  will  stop  scratching 
my  chair,  Enna,"  said  Elsie,  almost  with  tears  in  her 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  201 

eyes,  "I  will  tell  you  about  Elijah  on  Mount  Carmel  or 
Belshazzar's  feast,  or  the  children  in  the  fiery  furnace, 
or " 

"I  sha'n't  hear  any  of  those!  I  don't  want  any  oi 
your  old  Bible  stories,"  interrupted  Enna,  insolently. 
"You  must  tell  me  that  pretty  fairy  tale  Herbert  Car- 
rington  is  so  fond  of." 

"No,  Enna;  I  cannot  tell  you  that  to-day"  repliecl 
Elsie,  speaking  gently,  but  very  firmly. 

"I  say  you  shall!"  screamed  Enna,  springing  to  her 
feet.  "I'll  just  go  and  tell  mamma,  and  she'll  make 
you  do  it." 

"Stay,  Enna,"  said  Elsie,  catching  her  hand  to  de 
tain  her;  "I  will  tell  you  any  story  I  know  that  is 
suitable  for  the  Sabbath ;  but  I  cannot  tell  the  fairy 
tale  to-day,  because  you  know  it  would  be  wrong.  I 
will  tell  it  to  you  to-morrow,  though,  if  you  will  wait." 

"You're  a  bad  girl,  and  I'll  just  tell  mamma  of 
you,"  exclaimed  Enna,  passionately,  jerking  her  hand 
away  and  darting  from  the  room. 

"Oh !  if  papa  was  only  at  home,"  sighed  Elsie,  sink 
ing  into  her  rocking-chair,  pale  and  trembling;  but 
she  knew  that  he  had  gone  out  riding,  and  would  prob 
ably  not  return  for  some  time;  he  had  invited  her  to 
accompany  him,  but  she  had  begged  to  be  allowed  to 
stay  at  home,  and  he  had  let  her  have  her  wish. 

As  she  feared,  she  was  immediately  summoned  to 
Mrs.  Dinsmore's  presence. 

"Elsie,"  said  that  lady,  severely,  "are  you  not 
ashamed  of  yourself,  to  refuse  Enna  such  a  small 
Javor  especially  when  the  poor  child  is  not  well.  I 


202  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

must  say  you  are  the  most  selfish,  disobliging  child  1 
ever  saw." 

"I  offered  to  tell  her  a  Bible  story,  or  anything  suit 
able  for  the  Sabbath  day,"  replied  Elsie,  meekly,  "but 
I  cannot  tell  the  fairy  tale,  because  it  would  be  wrong." 

"Nonsense!  there's  no  harm  at  all  in  telling  fairy 
tales* to-day,  any  more  than  any  other  day;  that  is  just 
an  excuse,  Elsie,"  said  Mrs.  Dinsmore,  angrily. 

"I  don't  want  her  old  Bible  stories.  I  won't  have 
them.  I  want  that  pretty  fairy  tale,"  sobbed  Enna 
passionately;  "make  her  tell  it,  mamma." 

"Come,  come,  what  is  all  this  fuss  about  ?"  asked  the 
elder  Mr.  Dinsmore,  coming  in  from  an  adjoining 
room. 

"Nothing,"  said  his  wife,  "except  that  Enna  is  not 
well  enough  to  go  out,  and  wants  a  fairy  story  to  pass 
away  the  time,  which  Elsie  alone  is  acquainted  with, 
but  is  too  lazy  or  too  self-willed  to  relate." 

He  turned  angrily  to  his  little  granddaughter. 

"Ah!  indeed,  is  that  it?  Well,  there  is  an  old  say 
ing.  'A  bird  that  can  sing,  and  won't  sing,  must  be 
made  to  sing.' " 

Elsie  was  opening  her  lips  to  speak,  but  Mrs.  Dins- 
more  bade  her  be  silent,  and  then  went  on.  "She  pre 
tends  it  is  all  on  account  of  conscientious  scruples.  'It 
isn't  fit  for  the  Sabbath/  she  says.  Now  /  say  it  is  a 
great  piece  of  impertinence  for  a  child  of  her  years  to 
set  up  her  opinion  against  yours  and  mine ;  and  I  know 
very  well  it  is  nothing  but  an  excuse,  because  she 
doesn't  choose  to  be  obliging." 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  203 

Of  course  it  is ;  nothing  in  the  world  but  an  ex- 
fr.se,"  responded  Mr.  Dinsmore,  hotly. 

Elsie's  face  flushed,  and  she  answered  a  little  in 
dignantly, 

"No,  grandpa,  indeed  it  is  not  merely  an  excuse, 
but " 

"Do  you  dare  to  contradict  me,  you  impertinent  lit 
tle  hussy?"  cried  the  old  gentleman,  interrupting  her 
in  the  middle  of  her  sentence ;  and  catching  her  by  the 
arm,  he  shook  her  violently;  then  picking  her  up  and 
setting  her  down  hard  upon  a  chair,  he  said,  "Now, 
miss,  sit  you  there  until  your  father  comes  home,  then 
we  will  see  what  he  thinks  of  such  impertinence ;  and 
if  he  doesn't  give  you  the  complete  whipping  you  de 
serve,  I  miss  my  guess." 

"Please,  grandpa,  I " 

"Hold  your  tongue!  don't  dare  to  speak  another 
word  until  your  father  comes  home,"  said  he,  threaten 
ingly.  "If  you  don't  choose  to  say  what  you're  wanted 
to,  you  shall  not  talk  at  all." 

Then,  going  to  the  door,  he  called  a  servant  and 
bade  him  tell  "Mr.  Horace,"  as  soon  as  he  returned, 
that  he  wished  to  see  him. 

For  the  next  half -hour — and  a  very  long  one  it 
seemed  to  her — Elsie  sat  there  wishing  for,  and  yet 
dreading  her  father's  coming.  Would  he  inflict  upon 
her  the  punishment  which  her  grandfather  evidently 
wished  her  to  receive,  without  pausing  to  inquire  into 
the  merits  of  the  case?  or  would  he  listen  patiently  to 
her  story?  And  even  if  he  did,  might  he  not  still  think 
her  deserving  of  punishment?  She  could  not  answer 


204  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

these  questions  to  her  own  satisfaction.  A  few  months 
ago  she  would  have  been  certain  of  a  very  severe  chas 
tisement,  and  even  now  she  trembled  with  fear;  for 
though  she  knew  beyond  a  doubt  that  he  loved  her 
dearly,  she  knew  also  that  he  was  a  strict  and  severe 
disciplinarian,  and  never  excused  her  faults. 

At  last  her  ear  caught  the  sound  of  his  step  in  the 
hall,  and  her  heart  beat  fast  and  faster  as  it  drew 
nearer,  until  he  entered,  and  addressing  his  father, 
asked,  "Did  you  wish  to  see  me,  sir?" 

"Yes,  Horace,  I  want  you  to  attend  to  this  girl,"  re 
plied  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  motion  of  the  head  to 
ward  Elsie.  "She  has  been  very  impertinent  to  me." 

"What !  Elsie  impertinent !  is  it  possible  ?  I  certainly 
expected  better  things  of  her." 

His  tone  expressed  great  surprise,  and  turning  to 
his  little  daughter,  he  regarded  her  with  a  grave,  sad 
look  that  brought  the  tears  to  her  eyes;  dearly  as  she 
loved  him,  it  seemed  almost  harder  to  bear  than  the 
old  expression  of  stern  severity. 

"It  is  hard  to  believe,"  he  said,  "that  my  little  Elsie 
would  be  guilty  of  such  conduct ;  but  if  she  has  been, 
of  course  she  must  be  punished,  for  I  cannot  allow 
anything  of  the  kind.  Go.  Elsie,  to  my  dressing-room 
and  remain  there  until  I  come  to  you." 

"Papa — "  she  began,  bursting  into  tears. 

"Hush !"  he  said,  with  something  of  the  old  stern 
ness  ;  "not  a  word ;  but  obey  me  instantly." 

Then,  as  Elsie  went  sobbing  from  the  room,  he 
seated  himself,  and  turning  to  his  father,  said,  "Now, 
sir,  if  you  please,  I  should  like  tc  hear  the  whole  story ; 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  205 

precisely  what  Elsie  has  done  and  said,  and  what  was 
the  provocation ;  for  that  must  also  be  taken  into  the  ac 
count,  in  order  that  I  may  be  able  to  do  her  justice." 

"If  you  do  her  justice,  you  will  whip  her  well,"  re 
marked  his  father  in  a  tone  of  asperity. 

Horace  colored  violently,  for  nothing  aroused  his 
ire  sooner  than  any  interference  between  him  and  his 
child;  but  controlling  himself,  he  replied  quite  calmly, 
"If  I  find  her  deserving  of  punishment,  I  will  not  spare 
her;  but  I  should  be  sorry  indeed  to  punish  her  un 
justly.  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  what  she 
has  done?" 

Mr.  Dinsmore  referred  him  to  his  wife  for  the  com 
mencement  of  the  trouble,  and  she  made  out  as  bad  a 
case  against  Elsie  as  possible;  but  even  then  there 
seemed  to  her  father  to  be  very  little  to  condemn ;  and 
when  Mrs.  Dinsmore  was  obliged  to  acknowledge  that 
it  was  Elsie's  refusal  to  humor  Enna  in  her  desire  for 
a  particular  story  which  Elsie  thought  it  not  best  to 
relate  on  the  Sabbath,  he  bit  his  lip  with  vexation,  and 
told  her  in  a  haughty  tone,  that  though  he  did  not  ap 
prove  of  Elsie's  strict  notions  regarding  such  matters, 
yet  he  wished  her  to  understand  that  his  daughter  was 
not  to  be  made  a  slave  to  Enna's  whims.  If  she  chose 
to  tell  her  a  story,  or  to  do  anything  else  for  her 
amusement,  he  had  no  objection,  but  she  was  never 
to  be  forced  to  do  it  against  her  inclination,  and  Enna 
must  understand  that  it  was  done  as  a  favor,  and  not 
at  all  as  her  right. 

"You  are  right  enough  there,  Horace,"  remarked 
his  father,  "but  that  does  not  excuse  Elsie  for  her  im- 


206  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

pertinence  to  me.  In  the  first  place,  I  must  say  I  agree 
with  my  wife  in  thinking  it  quite  a  piece  of  imperti 
nence  for  a  child  of  her  years  to  set  up  her  opinion 
against  mine ;  and  besides,  she  contradicted  me  flatly." 

He  then  went  on  to  repeat  what  he  had  said,  and 
Elsie's  denial  of  the  charge,  using  her  exact  words, 
but  quite  a  different  tone,  and  suppressing  the  fact  that 
he  had  interrupted  her  before  she  had  finished  her 
sentence. 

Elsie's  tone,  though  slightly  indignant,  had  still  been 
respectful,  but  from  her  grandfather's  rehearsal  of 
the  scene  her  father  received  the  impression  that  she 
had  been  exceedingly  saucy,  and  he  left  the  room  with 
the  intention  of  giving  her  almost  as  severe  a  punish 
ment  as  her  grandfather  would  have  prescribed. 

On  the  way  up  to  his  room,  however,  his  anger  had 
a  little  time  to  cool,  and  it  occurred  to  him  that  it 
would  be  no  more  than  just  to  hear  her  side  of  the 
story  ere  he  condemned  her. 

Elsie  was  seated  on  a  couch  at  the  far  side  of  the 
room,  and  as  he  entered  she  turned  on  him  a  tearful, 
pleading  look,  that  went  straight  to  his  heart. 

His  face  was  grave  and  sad,  but  there  was  very  lit 
tle  sternness  in  it,  as  he  sat  down  and  took  her  in  his 
arms. 

For  a  moment  he  held  her  without  speaking,  while 
she  lifted  her  eyes  timidly  to  his  face.  Then  he  said, 
as  he  gently  stroked  the  hair  back  from  her  forehead, 
"I  am  very  sorry,  very  sorry  indeed,  to  hear  so  bad  an 
account  of  my  little  daughter.  I  am  afraid  I  shall 
have  to  punish  her,  and  I  don't  like  to  do  it." 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  207 

She  answered  not  a  word,  but  burst  into  tears,  and 
hiding  her  face  on  his  breast,  sobbed  aloud. 

"I  will  not  condemn  you  unheard,  Elsie,"  he  said 
after  a  moment's  pause ;  "tell  me  how  you  came  to  be 
so  impertinent  to  your  grandfather." 

"I  did  not  mean  to  be  saucy,  papa,  indeed  I  did  not," 
she  sobbed. 

"Stop  crying  then,  daughter,"  he  said  kindly,  "and 
tell  me  all  about  it.  I  know  there  was  some  trouble 
between  you  and  Enna,  and  I  want  you  to  tell  me  all 
that  occurred,  and  every  word  spoken  by  either  of 
you,  as  well  as  all  that  passed  between  Mrs.  Dinsmore, 
your  grandfather,  and  yourself.  I  am  very  glad  that 
I  can  trust  my  little  girl  to  speak  the  truth.  I  am 
quite  sure  she  would  not  tell  a  falsehood  even  to  save 
herself  from  punishment,"  he  added  tenderly. 

"Thank  you,  dear  papa,  for  saying  that,"  said  Elsie, 
raising  her  head  and  almost  smiling  through  her  tears. 
"I  will  try  to  tell  it  just  as  it  happened." 

She  then  told  her  story  simply  and  truthfully,  re 
peating,  as  he  bade  her,  every  word  that  had  passed 
between  Enna  and  herself,  and  bet\.  een  her  and  her 
grandparents.  Her  words  to  her  grandfather  sounded 
very  different,  repeated  in  her  quiet,  respectful  tones ; 
and  when  she  added  that  if  he  would  have  allowed  her, 
she  was  going  on  to  explain  that  it  was  not  any  un 
willingness  to  oblige  Enna,  but  the  fear  of  doing 
wrong,  that  led  her  to  refuse  her  request,  her  father 
thought  that  after  all  she  deserved  very  little  blame. 

"Do  you  think  I  was  very  saucy,  papa?"  she  asked 
anxiously,  when  she  had  finished  her  story. 


208  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"So  much  depends  upon  the  tone,  Elsie,"  he  said, 
"that  I  can  hardly  tell ;  if  you  used  the  same  tone  in 
speaking  to  your  grandpa  that  you  did  in  repeating 
your  words  to  me  just  now,  I  don't  think  it  was  very 
impertinent ;  though  the  words  themeelves  were  not  as 
respectful  as  they  ought  to  have  been.  You  must  al 
ways  treat  my  father  quite  as  respectfully  as  you  do 
me;  and  I  think  with  him,  too,  that  there  is  some 
thing  quite  impertinent  in  a  little  girl  like  you  setting 
up  her  opinion  against  that  of  her  elders.  You  must 
never  try  it  with  me,  my  daughter." 

Elsie  hung  down  her  head  in  silence  for  a  moment, 
then  asked  in  a  tremulous  tone,  "Are  you  going  to 
punish  me,  papa?" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "but  first  I  am  going  to  take  you 
down-stairs  and  make  you  beg  your  grandfather's 
pardon.  I  see  you  don't  want  to  do  it,"  he  added, 
looking  keenly  into  her  face,  "but  you  must,  and  I 
hope  I  shall  not  be  obliged  to  enforce  obedience  to  my 
commands." 

"I  will  do  whatever  you  bid  me,  papa,"  she  sobbed, 
"but  I  did  not  mean  to  be  saucy.  Please,  papa,  tell 
me  what  to  say." 

"You  must  say,  Grandpa,  I  did  not  intend  to  be  im 
pertinent  to  you,  and  I  am  very  sorry  for  whatever 
may  have  seemed  saucy  in  my  words  or  tones ;  will  you 
please  to  forgive  me,  and  I  will  try  always  to  be  per 
fectly  respectful  in  future.  You  can  say  all  that  with 
truth,  I  think?" 

"Yes,  papa,  I  am  sorry,  and  I  do  intend  to  be  re- 


ELSIE   DIKSMORE  209 

spectful  to  grandpa  always,"  she  answered,  brushing 
away  her  tears,  and  putting  her  hand  in  his. 

He  then  led  her  into  her  grandfather's  presence, 
saying:  "Elsie  has  come  to  beg  your  pardon,  sir." 

"That  is  as  it  should  be,"  replied  the  old  gentleman, 
glancing  triumphantly  at  his  wife;  "I  told  her  you 
would  not  uphold  her  in  any  such  impertinence." 

"No,"  said  his  son,  with  some  displeasure  in  his 
tone;  "I  will  neither  uphold  her  in  wrongdoing,  nor 
suffer  her  to  be  imposed  upon.  Speak,  my  daughter, 
and  say  what  I  bade  you." 

Elsie  sobbed  out  the  required  words. 

"Yes,  I  must  forgive  you,  of  course,"  replied  her 
grandfather,  coldly,  "but  I  hope  your  father  is  not  go 
ing  to  let  you  off  without  proper  punishment." 

"I  will  attend  to  that;  I  certainly  intend  to  punish 
her  as  she  deserves,"  said  his  son,  laying  a  marked 
emphasis  upon  the  concluding  words  of  his  sentence. 

Elsie  wholly  misunderstood  him,  and  so  trembled 
with  fear  as  he  led  her  from  the  room,  that  she  could 
scarcely  walk;  seeing  which,  he  took  her  in  his  arms 
and  carried  her  up-stairs,  she  sobbing  on  his  shoulder. 

He  did  not  speak  until  he  had  locked  the  door,  car 
ried  her  across  the  room,  and  seated  himself  upon  the 
couch  again,  with  her  upon  his  knee. 

Then  he  said,  in  a  soothing  tone,  as  he  wiped  away 
her  tears  and  kissed  her  kindly,  "You  need  not  trem 
ble  so,  my  daughter ;  I  am  not  going  to  be  severe  with 
you." 

She  looked  up  in  glad  surprise. 

"I  said  I  would  punish  you  as  you  deserve"  he  said. 


210  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

with  a  smile,  "and  I  intend  to  keep  you  shut  up  here 
with  me  until  bed-time.  I  shall  not  allow  you  to  go 
down-stairs  to  tea,  and  besides,  I  am  going  to  give 
you  a  long  lesson  to  learn,  which  I  shall  require  you  to 
recite  to  me  quite  perfectly  before  you  can  go  to  bed." 

Elsie  grew  frightened  again  at  the  mention  of  the 
lesson,  for  she  feared  it  might  be  something  which  she 
could  not  conscientiously  study  on  the  Sabbath;  but 
all  her  fear  and  trouble  vanished  as  she  saw  her  father 
take  up  a  Bible  that  lay  on  the  table,  and  turn  over  the 
leaves  as  though  selecting  a  passage. 

Presently  he  put  it  into  her  hands,  and  pointing  to 
the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  chapters  of  John's  Gos 
pel,  bade  her  carry  the  book  to  a  low  seat  by  the  win 
dow,  and  sit  there  until  she  had  learned  them  per 
fectly. 

"O  papa!  what  a  nice  lesson!"  she  exclaimed,  look 
ing  up  delightedly  into  his  face ;  "but  it  won't  be  any 
punishment,  because  I  love  these  chapters  dearly,  and 
have  read  them  so  often  that  I  almost  know  every 
word  already." 

"Hush,  hush!"  he  said,  pretending  to  be  very  stern; 
"don't  tell  me  that  my  punishments  are  no  punish 
ments,  I  don't  allow  you  to  talk  so;  just  take  the  book 
and  learn  what  I  bid  you;  and  if  you  know  those  two 
already,  you  may  learn  the  next." 

Elsie  laughed,  kissed  his  hand,  and  tripped  away  to 
her  window,  while  he  threw  himself  down  on  the 
couch  and  took  up  a  newspaper,  more  as  a  screen  to  his 
face,  however,  than  for  the  purpose  of  reading;  for 
he  lay  there  closely  watching  his  little  daughter,  as 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  211 

she  sat  in  the  rich  glow  of  the  sunset,  with  her  sweet, 
grave  little  face  bending  over  the  holy  book. 

"The  darling!"  he  murmured  to  himself;  "she  is 
lovely  as  an  angel,  and  she  is  mine,  mine  only,  mine 
own  precious  one;  and  loves  me  with  her  whole  soul. 
Ah !  how  can  I  ever  find  it  in  my  heart  to  be  stern  to 
her?  Ah!  if  /  were  but  half  as  good  and  pure  as 
she  is,  I  should  be  a  better  man  than  I  am."  And  he 
heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

Half  an  hour  had  passed,  and  still  Elsie  bent  over 
her  book.  The  tea-bell  rang,  and  Mr.  Dinsmore 
started  up,  and  crossing  the  room,  bent  down  and 
stroked  her  hair. 

"Do  you  know  it,  darling?"  he  asked. 

"Almost,  papa,"  and  she  looked  up  into  his  face 
with  a  bright,  sweet  smile,  full  of  affection. 

With  a  sudden  impulse  he  caught  her  in  his  arms, 
and  kissing  her  again  and  again,  said  with  emotion, 
"Elsie,  my  darling,  I  love  you  too  well ;  I  could  never 
bear  to  lose  you." 

"You  must  love  Jesus  better,  my  own  precious 
papa,"  she  replied,  clasping  her  little  arms  around  his 
neck,  and  returning  his  caresses. 

He  held  her  a  moment,  and  then  putting  her  down, 
said,  "I  shall  send  you  up  some  supper,  and  I  want 
you  to  eat  it ;  don't  behave  as  you  did  about  the  bread 
and  water  once,  a  good  while  ago." 

"Will  it  be  bread  and  water  this  time,  papa?"  she 
asked,  with  a  smile. 

"You  will  see,"  he  said,  laughingly,  and  quitted  the 
«-oom. 


212  ELSIE  DINSMORE 

Elsie  turned  to  her  book  again,  but  in  a  few  mo 
ments  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a  servant 
carrying  on  a  silver  waiter  a  plate  of  hot,  buttered 
muffins,  a  cup  of  jelly,  another  of  hot  coffee,  and  a 
piece  of  broiled  chicken.  Elsie  was  all  astonishment 

"Why,  Pomp,"  she  asked,  "did  papa  send  it?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Elsie,  'deed  he  did,"  replied  the  servant, 
with  a  grin  of  satisfaction,  as  he  set  down  his  burden. 
f  "I  reckon  you  been  berry  nice  gal  dis  day ;  or  else 
Marster  Horace  tink  you  little  bit  sick." 

"Papa  is  very  good ;  and  I  am  much  obliged  to  you 
too,  Pomp,"  said  the  little  girl,  laying  aside  her  book, 
and  seating  herself  before  the  waiter. 

"Jes  ring  de  bell,  Miss  Elsie,  ef  you  want  more,  and 
dis  chile  fotch  'em  up;  Marster  Horace  say  so  his- 
self."  And  the  grinning  negro  bowed  himself  out, 
chuckling  with  delight,  for  Elsie  had  always  been  a 
great  favorite  with  him. 

"Dear  papa,"  Elsie  said,  when  he  came  in  again  and 
smilingly  asked  if  she  had  eaten  her  prison  fare,  "what 
a  good  supper  you  sent  me !  But  I  thought  you  didn't 
allow  me  such  things !" 

"Don't  you  know,"  said  he  playfully,  laying  his 
hand  upon  her  head,  "that  I  am  absolute  monarch  of 
this  small  kingdom,  and  you  are  not  to  question  my 
doings  or  decrees?" 

Then  in  a  more  serious  tone,  "No,  daughter,  I  do 
not  allow  it  as  a  regular  thing,  because  I  do  not  think 
it  for  your  good ;  but  for  once,  I  thought  it  would  not 
hurt  you.  I  know  you  are  not  one  to  presume  upon 
favors,  and  I  wanted  to  indulge  you  a  little,  because  I 


ELSIE   DINSMORE^  213 

fear  my  little  girl  has  been  made  to  suffer  perhaps 
more  than  she  quite  deserved  this  afternoon." 

His  voice  had  a  very  tender  tone  as  he  uttered  the 
concluding  words,  and  stooping,  he  pressed  his  lips  to 
her  forehead. 

"Don't  think,  though,"  he  added  the  next  moment, 
"that  I  am  excusing  you  for  impertinence,  not  at  all; 
but  it  was  what  you  have  had  to  suffer  from  Enna's 
insolence.  I  shall  put  a  stop  to  that,  for  I  will  not 
have  it." 

"I  don't  mind  it  much,  papa,"  said  Elsie  gently,  "I 
am  quite  used  to  it,  for  Enna  has  always  treated  me 
so." 

"And  why  did  /  never  hear  of  it  before?"  he  asked, 
half  angrily.  "It  is  abominable!  not  to  be  endured!" 
he  exclaimed,  "and  I  shall  see  that  Miss  Enna  is  made 
to  understand  that  my  daughter  is  fully  her  equal  in 
every  respect,  and  always  to  be  treated  as  such." 

He  paused;  but,  Elsie,  half  frightened  at  his  vehe 
mence,  made  no  reply;  and  he  went  on:  "I  have  no 
doubt  your  grandfather  and  his  wife  would  have  been 
better  pleased  had  I  forced  you  to  yield  to  Enna'? 
whim;  but  I  had  no  idea  of  such  a  thing;  you  shall 
use  your  own  pleasure  whenever  she  is  concerned ;  buS 
if  /  had  bidden  you  to  tell  her  that  story  it  would  have 
been  a  very  different  matter;  you  need  never  set  up 
your  will,  or  your  opinion  of  right  and  wrong,  against 
mine,  Elsie,  for  I  shall  not  allow  it.  I  don't  altogether 
like  some  of  those  strict  notions  you  have  got  into 
your  head,  and  I  give  you  fair  warning,  that  should 


214  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

they  ever  come  into  collision  with  my  wishes  and  com 
mands,  they  will  have  to  be  given  up.  But  don't  look 
so  alarmed,  daughter;  I  hope  it  may  never  happen; 
and  we  will  say  no  more  about  it  to-night,"  he  added, 
kindly,  for  she  had  grown  very  pale  and  trembled 
visibly. 

"O  papa,  dear  papa !  don't  ever  bid  me  do  anything 
wrong;  it  would  break  my  heart,"  she  said,  laying 
her  head  on  his  shoulder  as  he  sat  down  and  drew  her 
to  his  side. 

"I  never  intend  to  bid  you  do  wrong,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  wish  you  always  to  do  right.  But  then, 
daughter,  /  must  be  the  judge  of  what  is  wrong  or 
tight  for  you ;  you  must  remember  that  you  are  only  a 
very  little  girl,  and  not  yet  capable  of  judging  for 
yourself,  and  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  obey  your  father 
without  murmuring  or  hesitation,  and  then  there  will 
De  no  trouble." 

His  tone,  though  mild,  and  not  unkind,  was  very 
firm  and  decided,  and  Elsie's  heart  sank;  she  seemed 
to  feel  herself  in  the  shadow  of  some  great  trouble 
kid  up  in  store  for  her  in  the  future.  But  she  strove, 
and  ere  long  with  success,  to  banish  the  foreboding  of 
*!vil  which  oppressed  her,  and  give  herself  up  to  the* 
enjoyment  of  present  blessings.  Her  father  loved  her 
dearly — she  knew  that — and  he  was  not  now  requiring 
her  to  do  aught  against  her  conscience,  and  perhaps  he 
naver  might ;  he  had  said  so  himself,  and  God  could  in 
cline  his  heart  to  respect  her  scruples;  or  if,  in  His  in 
finite  wisdom,  He  saw  that  the  dreaded  trial  was 
needed,  He  would  give  her  strength  to  bear  it ;  f 01  had 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  215 

He  not  promised,  "As  thy  day,  so  shall  thy  strength 
be"? 

Her  father's  arm  was  around  her,  and  she  had  been 
standing  silently,  with  her  face  hidden  on  his  shoul 
der,  while  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  her 
mind,  and  the  little  heart  going  up  in  prayer  to  God 
for  him  and  for  herself. 

"What  is  my  little  girl  thinking  of  ?"  he  asked  pres 
ently. 

"A  good  many  things,  papa,"  she  said,  raising  her 
face,  now  quite  peaceful  and  happy  again.  "I  was 
thinking  of  what  you  had  just  been  saying  to  me,  and 
that  I  am  so  glad  I  know  that  you  love  me  dearly; 
and  I  was  asking  God  to  help  us  both  to  do  His  will, 
and  that  I  might  always  be  able  to  do  what  you  bid 
me,  without  disobeying  Him,"  she  added  simply;  and 
then  asked,  "May  I  say  my  lesson  now,  papa  ?  I  think 
I  know  it  quite  perfectly." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  in  an  absent  way;  "bring  me  the 
book." 

Elsie  brought  it,  and  putting  it  into  his  hands,  drew 
up  a  stool  and  sat  down  at  his  feet,  resting  her  arm 
on  his  knee,  and  looking  up  into  his  face ;  then  in  her 
sweet,  low  voice,  she  repeated  slowly  and  feelingly, 
with  true  and  beautiful  emphasis,  the  chapters  he  had 
given  her  to  learn;  that  most  touching  description  of 
the  Last  Supper,  and  our  Saviour's  farewell  address 
to  His  sorrowing  disciples. 

"Ah!  papa,  is  it  not  beautiful?"  she  exclaimed,  lay 
ing  her  head  upon  his  knee,  while  the  tears  trembled 
in  her  eyes.  "Is  not  that  a  sweet  verse,  'Having  loved 


216  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

His  own  which  were  in  the  world,  He  loved  them 
unto  the  end'?  It  seems  so  strange  that  He  could  be 
so  thoughtful  for  them,  so  kind  and  loving,  when  all 
the  time  He  knew  what  a  dreadful  death  He  was  just 
going  to  die ;  and  knew  besides  that  they  were  all  go 
ing  to  run  away  and  leave  Him  alone  with  His  cruel 
enemies.  Oh!  it  is  so  sweet  to  know  that  Jesus  is 
so  loving,  and  that  He  loves  me,  and  will  always  love 
me,  even  to  the  end,  forever." 

"How  do  you  know  that,  Elsie?"  he  asked. 

"I  know  that  He  loves  me,  papa,  because  I  love 
Him,  and  He  has  said,  'I  love  them  that  love  me;' 
and  I  know  that  He  will  love  me  always,  because  He 
has  said,  'I  have  loved  thee  with  an  everlasting  love/ 
and  in  another  place,  'I  will  never  leave  thee,  nor  for 
sake  thee/  " 

"But  do  you  think  you  are  good  enough,  daugh 
ter,  for  Jesrs  to  love  you?" 

"Ah !  papa,  I  know  I  am  not  at  all  good.  I  have  a 
very  wicked  heart,  and  often  my  thoughts  and  feel 
ings  are  all  wrong,  and  Jesus  knows  all  about  it,  but 
it  does  not  keep  Him  from  loving  me,  for  you  know 
it  was  sinners  He  died  to  save.  Ah !  papa,  how  good 
and  kind  He  was!  Who  could  help  loving  Him?  I 
used  to  feel  so  lonely  and  sad  sometimes,  papa,  that  I 
think  my  heart  would  have  broken  quite,  and  I  should 
have  died,  if  I  had  not  had  Jesus  to  love  me." 

"When  were  you  so  sad  and  lonely,  darling?"  he 
asked  in  a  moved  tone,  as  he  laid  his  hand  gently  on 
her  head,  and  stroked  her  hair  caressingly. 

"Sometimes  when  you  were  away,  papa,  and  I  had 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  217 

never  seen  you;  but  then  I  used  to  think  of  you,  and 
my  heart  would  long  and  ache  so  to  see  you,  and  hear 
you  call  me  daughter,  and  to  lay  my  head  against  your 
breast  and  feel  your  arms  folding  me  close  to  your 
heart,  as  you  do  so  often  now." 

She  paused  a  moment,  and  struggled  hard  to  keep 
down  the  rising  sobs,  as  she  added,  "But  when  you 
came,  papa,  and  I  saw  you  did  not  love  me,  oh !  papa, 
that  was  the  worst.  I  thought  I  could  never,  never 
bear  it.  I  thought  my  heart  would  break,  and  I 
wanted  to  die  and  go  to  Jesus,  and  to  mamma." 

The  little  frame  shook  with  sobs. 

"My  poor  darling!  my  poor  little  pet!"  he  said, 
taking  her  in  his  arms  again,  and  caressing  her  with 
the  greatest  tenderness,  "it  was  very  hard,  very  cruel. 
I  don't  know  how  I  could  steel  my  heart  so  against  my 
own  little  child;  but  I  had  been  very  much  prejudiced, 
and  led  to  suppose  that  you  looked  upon  me  with  fear 
and  dislike,  as  a  hated  tyrant." 

Elsie  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  face  with  a  look  of  ex 
treme  surprise. 

"O  papa!"  she  exclaimed,  "how  could  you  think 
that?  I  have  always  loved  you,  ever  since  I  can  re 
member." 

When  Elsie  went  to  her  room  that  evening  she 
thought  very  seriously  of  all  that  had  occurred  during 
the  afternoon,  and  all  that  her  papa  had  said  to  her ; 
and  to  her  usual  petitions  was  added  a  very  fervent 
one  that  he  might  never  bid  her  break  any  command  of 
God;  or  if  he  did,  that  she  might  have  strength  given 
her  according  to  her  day. 


218  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

A  shadow  had  fallen  on  her  pathway,  faint,  but  per 
ceptible;  a  light,  fleecy  cloud  obscured  the  brightness 
of  her  sun;  yet  it  was  not  for  some  weeks  that  even 
the  most  distant  mutterings  of  the  coming  storm  could 
be  heard. 


CHAPTER  TENTH 

;<If  thou  turn  away  thy  foot  from  the  Sabbath,  from  doing 
thy  pleasure  on  my  holy  day,  and  call  the  Sabbath  a  Delight, 
the  Holy  of  the  Lord,  Honorable,  and  shalt  honor  him,  not 
doing  thine  own  ways,  nor  rinding  thine  own  pleasure,  nor 
speaking  thine  own  words." — Isaiah  Iviii.  13. 

"Whether  it  be  right  in  the  sight  of  God  to  hearken  unto 
you,  more  than  unto  God,  judge  ye." — Acts  iv.  19. 

QUITE  a  number  of  guests  had  dined  at  Roselands. 
They  were  nearly  all  gentlemen,  and  were  now  col 
lected  in  the  drawing-room,  laughing,  jesting,  talking 
politics,  and  conversing  with  each  other  and  the  la 
dies  upon  various  worldly  topics,  apparently  quite 
forgetful  that  it  was  the  Lord's  day,  which  He  has 
commanded  to  be  kept  holy  in  thought  and  word,  as 
-  ^11  as  deed. 

lay  I  ask  what  you  are  in  search  of,  Mr.  Ever- 
i?"  inquired  Adelaide,  as  she  noticed  one  of  the 
rts  glance  around  the  room  with  a  rather  disap- 
p     .ted  air. 

Yes,  Miss  Adelaide;  I  was  looking  for  little  Miss 
Elsie.  Travilla  has  given  me  so  very  glowing  an  ac 
count  of  her  precocious  musical  talent,  that  I  have 
conceived  a  great  desire  to  hear  her  play  and  sing." 

219 


220  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"Do  you  hear  that,  Horace?"  asked  Adelaide,  turn 
ing  to  her  brother. 

"Yes,  and  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  gratify  you, 
Eversham,"  replied  the  young  father,  with  a  proud 
smile. 

He  crossed  the  room  to  summon  a  servant,  but  as 
he  placed  his  hand  upon  the  bell-rope,  Mrs.  Dins- 
more  arrested  his  movement. 

"Stay,  Horace,"  she  said ;  "you  had  better  not  send 
for  her." 

"May  I  be  permitted  to  ask  why,  madam?"  he  in 
quired  in  a  tone  of  mingled  surprise  and  annoyance. 

"Because  she  will  not  sing,"  answered  the  lady, 
coolly. 

"Pardon  me,  madam,  but  I  think  she  will,  if  /  bid 
her  to  do  it,"  he  said  with  flashing  eyes. 

"No,  she  will  not,"  persisted  Mrs.  Dinsmore,  in 
the  same  cold,  quiet  tone;  "she  will  tell  you  she  is 
wiser  than  her  father,  and  that  it  would  be  a  sin  to 
obey  him  in  this.  Believe  me,  she  will  most  assuredly 
defy  your  authority;  so  you  had  better  take  my  ad 
vice  and  let  her  alone — thus  sparing  yourself  the  mor 
tification  of  exhibiting  before  your  guests  your  inabil 
ity  to  govern  your  child." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  bit  his  lip  with  vexation. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said,  haughtily,  "but  I  prefer  con 
vincing  you  that  that  inability  lies  wholly  in  your  own 
imagination;  and  I  am  quite  at  a  loss  to  understand 
upon  what  you  found  your  opinion,  as  Elsie  has  never 
yet  made  the  very  slightest  resistance  to  my  author- 
ity." 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  221 

He  had  given  the  bell-rope  a  vigorous  pull  while 
speaking,  and  a  servant  now  appearing  in  answer  to 
the  summons,  he  sent  him  with  a  message  to  Elsie,  re 
quiring  her  presence  in  the  drawing-room. 

Then  turning  away  from  his  step-mother,  who 
looked  after  him  with  a  gleam  of  triumph  in  her  eye, 
he  joined  the  group  of  gentlemen  already  gathered 
about  the  piano,  where  Adelaide  had  just  taken  her 
seat  and  begun  a  brilliant  overture. 

Yet,  outwardly  calm  and  self -satisfied  as  his  de 
meanor  may  have  been,  Horace  Dinsmore  was  even 
now  regretting  the  step  he  had  just  taken ;  for  re 
membering  Elsie's  conscientious  scruples  regarding 
the  observance  of  the  Sabbath — which  he  had  for  the 
moment  forgotten — he  foresaw  that  there  would  be  a 
struggle,  probably  a  severe  one;  and  though,  having 
always  found  her  docile  and  yielding,  he  felt  no  doubt 
of  the  final  result,  he  would  willingly  have  avoided 
the  contest,  could  he  have  done  so  without  a  sacrifice 
of  pride;  but,  as  he  said  to  himself,  with  a  slight 
sigh,  he  had  now  gone  too  far  to  retreat ;  and  then 
he  had  all  along  felt  that  this  struggle  must  come  some 
time,  and  perhaps  it  was  as  well  now  as  at  any  other. 

Elsie  was  alone  in  her  own  room,  spending  the  Sab 
bath  afternoon  in  her  usual  manner,  when  the  servant 
came  to  say  that  her  papa  wished  to  see  her  in  the 
drawing-room.  The  little  girl  was  a  good  deal 
alarmed  at  the  summons,  for  the  thought  instantly 
flashed  upon  her,  "He  is  going  to  bid  me  play  and 
sing,  or  do  something  else  which  it  is  not  right  to  do 
on  the  Sabbath  day." 


222  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

But  remembering  that  he  never  had  done  so,  sh& 
hoped  he  might  not  now;  yet  ere  she  obeyed  the  call 
she  knelt  down  for  a  moment,  and  prayed  earnestly 
for  strength  to  do  right,  however  difficult  it  might  be. 

"Come  here,  daughter,"  her  father  said  as  she  en 
tered  the  room.  He  spoke  in  his  usual  pleasant,  af 
fectionate  tone,  yet  Elsie  started,  trembled,  and  turned 
pale ;  for  catching  sight  of  the  group  at  the  piano,  and 
her  Aunt  Adelaide  just  vacating  the  music-stool,  she  at 
once  perceived  what  was  in  store  for  her. 

"Here,  Elsie,"  said  her  father,  selecting  a  song 
which  she  had  learned  during  their  absence,  and  sang 
remarkably  well,  "I  wish  you  to  sing  this  for  my 
f-  iends;  they  are  anxious  to  hear  it." 

"Will  not  to-morrow  do,  papa  ?"  she  asked  in  a  low, 
tremulous  tone. 

Mrs.  Dinsmore,  who  had  drawn  near  to  listen,  now 
looked  at  Horace  with  a  meaning  smile,  which  he  af 
fected  not  to  see. 

"Certainly  not,  Elsie,"  he  said;  "we  want  it  now. 
You  know  it  quite  well  enough  without  any  more 
practice." 

"I  did  not  want  to  wait  for  that  reason,  papa,"  she 
replied  in  the  same  low,  trembling  tones,  "but  you 
know  this  is  the  holy  Sabbath  day." 

"Well,  my  daughter,  and  what  of  that?  7  consider 
this  song  perfectly  proper  to  be  sung  to-day,  and  that 
ought  to  satisfy  you  that  you  will  not  be  doing  wrong 
to  sing  it;  remember  what  I  said  to  you  some  weeks 
ago;  and  now  sit  down  and  sing  it  at  once,  without 
any  more  ado." 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  223 

"O  papa!  I  cannot  sing  it  to-day;  please  let  me  wait 
until  to-morrow." 

"Elsie,"  he  said  in  his  sternest  tones,  "sit  down  to 
the  piano  instantly,  and  do  as  I  bid  you,  and  let  me 
hear  no  more  of  this  nonsense."  < 

She  sat  down,  but  raising  her  pleading  eyes,  brim 
ful  of  tears  to  his  face,  she  repeated  her  refusal. 
"Dear  papa,  I  cannot  sing  it  to-day.  I  cannot  break 
the  Sabbath." 

"Elsie,  you  must  sing  it,"  said  he,  placing  the  music 
before  her.  "I  have  told  you  that  it  will  not  be  break 
ing  the  Sabbath,  and  that  is  sufficient ;  you  must  let  me 
judge  for  you  in  these  matters." 

"Let  her  wait  until  to-morrow,  Dinsmore;  tomor 
row  will  suit  us  quite  as  well,"  urged  several  of  the 
gentlemen,  while  Adelaide  good-naturedly  said,  "Let 
me  play  it,  Horace;  I  have  no  such  scruples,  and  pre 
sume  I  can  do  it  nearly  as  well  as  Elsie." 

"No,"  he  replied,  "when  I  give  my  child  a  com 
mand,  it  is  to  be  obeyed ;  I  have  said  she  should  play 
it,  and  play  it  she  must;  she  is  not  to  suppose  that  she 
may  set  up  her  opinion  of  right  and  wrong  against 
mine." 

Elsie  sat  with  her  little  hands  folded  in  her  lap,  thqf 
tears  streaming  from  her  downcast  eyes  over  her  pale 
cheeks.  She  was  trembling,  but  though  there  was  no 
stubbornness  in  her  countenance,  the  expression  meek 
and  humble,  she  made  no  movement  toward  obeying 
her  father's  order. 

There  was  a  moment  of  silent  waiting ;  then  he  said 
m  his  severest  tone,  "Elsie,  you  shall  sit  there  till 


224  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

you  obey  me,  though  it  should  be  until  to-morrow 
morning." 

"Yes,  papa,"  she  replied  in  a  scarcely  audible  voice, 
and  they  all  turned  away  and  left  her. 

"You  see  now  that  you  had  better  have  taken  my 
advice,  Horace,"  remarked  Mrs.  Dinsmore,  in  a  trium 
phant  aside;  "I  knew  very  well  how  it  would  end." 

"Excuse  me,"  said  he,  "but  it  has  not  ended;  and 
ere  it  does,  I  think  she  will  learn  that  she  has  a 
stronger  will  than  her  own  to  deal  with." 

Elsie's  position  was  a  most  uncomfortable  one;  her 
seat  high  and  uneasy,  and  seeming  to  grow  more  and 
more  so  as  the  weary  moments  passed  slowly  away. 
No  one  came  near  her  or  seemed  to  notice  her,  yet 
she  could  hear  them  conversing  in  other  parts  of  the 
room,  and  knew  that  they  were  sometimes  looking  at 
her,  and,  timid  and  bashful  as  she  was,  it  seemed  hard 
to  bear.  Then,  too,  her  little  heart  was  very  sad  as 
she  thought  of  her  father's  displeasure,  and  feared 
that  he  would  withdraw  from  her  the  affection  which 
had  been  for  the  last  few  months  the  very  sunshine 
of  her  life.  Besides  all  this,  the  excitement  of  her 
feelings,  and  the  close  and  sultry  air — for  it  was  a 
very  warm  day — had  brought  on  a  nervous  headache. 
She  leaned  forward  and  rested  her  head  against  the 
instrument,  feeling  in  momentary  danger  of  falling 
from  her  seat. 

Thus  two  long  hours  had  passed  when  Mr.  Tra- 
villa  came  to  her  side,  and  said  in  a  compassionate 
tone,  "I  am  really  very  sorry  for  you,  my  little  friend  ; 
but  I  advise  you  to  submit  to  your  papa.  I  see  you 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  225 

are  getting  very  weary  sitting  there,  and  I  warn  you 
not  to  hope  to  conquer  him.  I  have  known  him  for 
years,  and  a  more  determined  person  I  never  saw. 
Had  you  not  better  sing  the  song  ?  it  will  not  take  five 
minutes,  and  then  your  trouble  will  be  all  over." 

Elsie  raised  her  head,  and  answered  gently,  "Thank 
you  for  your  sympathy,  Mr.  Travilla,  you  are  very 
kind;  but  I  could  not  do  it,  because  Jesus  says,  'He 
that  loveth  father  or  mother  more  than  me,  is  not 
worthy  of  me;'  and  I  cannot  disobey  Him,  even  to 
please  my  own  dear  papa." 

"But,  Miss  Elsie,  why  do  you  think  it  would  be  dis 
obeying  Him?  Is  there  any  verse  in  the  Bible  which 
says  you  must  not  sing  songs  on  Sunday  ?" 

"Mr.  Travilla,  it  says  the  Sabbath  is  to  be  kept  holy 
unto  the  Lord;  that  we  are  not  to  think  our  own 
thoughts,  nor  speak  our  own  words,  nor  do  our  own 
actions;  but  all  the  day  must  be  spent  in  studying 
God's  word,  or  worshipping  and  praising  Him;  and 
there  is  no  praise  in  that  song;  not  one  word  about 
God  or  heaven." 

"That  is  very  true,  Elsie,  but  still  it  is  such  a  very 
little  thing,  that  I  cannot  think  there  would  be  much 
harm  in  it,  or  that  God  would  be  very  angry  with  you 
for  doing  it." 

"O  Mr.  Travilla!"  she  said,  looking  up  at  him  in 
great  surprise,  "surely  you  know  that  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  a  little  sin;  and  don't  you  remember 
about  the  man  who  picked  up  sticks  on  the  Sabbath 
day?" 

"No;  what  was  it?" 


226  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"God  commanded  that  he  should  be  stoned  to  death, 
and  it  was  done.  Would  you  not  have  thought  that 
a  very  little  thing,  Mr.  Travilla?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  I  should,"  said  ~e,  turning  away 
with  a  very  grave  face. 

"Dinsmore,"  he  said,  going  up  to  his  friend ;  "I  am 
sure  that  child  is  conscientious;  had  you  not  better 
give  up  to  her  in  this  instance?" 

"Never,  Travilla,"  he  answered,  with  stern  decision. 
"This  is  the  first  time  she  has  rebelled  against  my 
authority,  and  if  I  let  her  conquer  now,  she  will  think 
she  is  always  to  have  her  own  way.  No ;  cost  what  it 
may,  I  must  subdue  her;  she  will  have  to  learn  that 
my  will  is  law." 

"Right,  Horace,"  said  the  elder  Mr.  Dinsmore,  ap 
provingly,  "let  her  understand  from  the  first  that  you 
are  to  be  master ;  it  is  always  the  best  plan." 

"Excuse  me,  Dinsmore,"  said  Travilla;  "but  I  must 
say  that  I  think  a  parent  has  no  right  to  coerce  a 
child  into  doing  violence  to  its  conscience." 

"Nonsense!"  replied  his  friend,  a  little  angrily. 
"Elsie  is  entirely  too  young  to  set  up  her  opinion 
against  mine;  she  must  allow  me  to  judge  for  her  in 
these  matters  for  some  years  to  come." 

Everhsam,  who  had  been  casting  uneasy  glances  at 
Elsie  all  the  afternoon,  now  drawing  his  chair  near  to 
Adelaide,  said  to  her  in  an  undertone,  "Miss  Ade 
laide,  I  am  deeply  sorry  for  the  mischief  I  have  un 
wittingly  caused,  and  if  you  can  tell  me  how  to  re 
pair  it  you  will  lay  me  under  lasting  obligations." 

Adelaide  shook  her  head.     "There    is    no    moving 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  227 

Horace  when  he  has  once  set  his  foot  down,"  she 
said;  "and  as  to  Elsie,  I  doubt  whether  any  power  on 
earth  can  make  her  do  what  she  considers  wrong." 

"Poor  little  thing!"  said  Eversham,  sighing;  "where 
in  the  world  did  she  get  such  odd  notions?" 

"Partly  from  a  pious  Scotch  woman,  who  had  a 
good  deal  to  do  with  her  in  her  infancy,  and  partly 
from  studying  the  Bible,  I  believe.  She  is  always  at 
it." 

"Indeed!"  and  he  relapsed  into  thoughtful  silence. 

Another  hour  passed  slowly  away,  and  then  the 
tea-bell  rang. 

"Elsie,"  asked  her  father,  coming  to  her  side,  "are 
you  ready  to  obey  me  now?  if  so,  we  will  wait  a  mo 
ment  to  hear  the  song,  and  then  you  can  go  to  your 
tea  with  us." 

"Dear  papa,  I  cannot  break  the  Sabbath,"  she  re 
plied,  in  a  low,  gentle  tone,  without  lifting  her  head. 

"Very  well  then,  I  cannot  break  my  word;  you 
must  sit  there  until  you  will  submit ;  and  until  then  you 
must  fast.  You  are  not  only  making  yourself  miser 
able  by  your  disobedience  and  obstinacy,  Elsie,  but  are 
mortifying  and  grieving  me  very  much,"  he  added  in 
a  subdued  tone,  that  sent  a  sharp  pang  to  the  loving 
little  heart,  and  caused  some  very  bitter  tears  to  fall, 
as  he  turned  away  and  left  her. 

The  evening  passed  wearily  away  to  the  little  girl; 
the  drawing-room  was  but  dimly  lighted,  for  the  com 
pany  had  all  deserted  it  to  wander  about  the  grounds, 
or  sit  in  the  portico  enjoying  the  moonlight  and  the 
pleasant  evening  breeze,  and  the  air  indoors  seemed 


228  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

insupportably  close  and  sultry.  At  times  Elsie  could 
scarcely  breathe,  and  she  longed  intensely  to  get  out 
into  the  open  air;  every  moment  her  seat  grew  more 
uncomfortable  and  the  pain  in  her  head  more  severe: 
her  thoughts  began  to  wander,  she  forgot  where  she 
was,  everything  became  confused,  and  at  length  she 
lost  all  consciousness. 

Several  gentlemen,  among  whom  were  Mr.  Horace 
Dinsmore  and  Mr.  Travilla,  were  conversing  together 
on  the  portico,  when  they  were  suddenly  startled  by 
a  sound  as  of  something  falling. 

Travilla,  who  was  nearest  the  door,  rushed  into  the 
drawing-room,  followed  by  the  others. 

"A  light!  quick,  quick,  a  light!"  he  cried,  raising 
Elsie's  insensible  form  in  his  arms;  "the  child  has 
fainted." 

One  of  the  others,  instantly  snatching  a  lamp  from 
a  distant  table,  brought  it  near,  and  the  increased 
light  showed  Elsie's  little  face,  ghastly  as  that  of  a 
corpse,  while  a  stream  of  blood  was  flowing  from  a 
wound  in  the  temple,  made  by  striking  against  some 
sharp  corner  of  the  furniture  as  she  fell. 

She  was  a  pitiable  sight  indeed,  with  her  fair  face, 
her  curls,  and  her  white  dress  all  dabbled  in  blood. 

"Dinsmore,  you're  a  brute !"  exclaimed  Travilla 
indignantly,  as  he  placed  her  gently  on  a  sofa. 

Horace  made  no  reply,  but,  with  a  face  almost  as 
pale  as  her  own,  bent  over  his  little  daughter  in 
speechless  alarm,  while  one  of  the  guests,  who  hap 
pened  to  be  a  physician,  hastily  dressed  the  wound, 
and  then  applied  restoratives. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  229 

It  was  some  time  ere  consciousness  returned,  and 
the  father  trembled  with  the  agonizing  fear  that  the 
gentle  spirit  had  taken  its  flight. 

But  at  length  the  soft  eyes  unclosed,  and  gazing 
with  a  troubled  look  into  his  face,  bent  so  anxiously 
over  her,  she  asked,  "Dear  papa,  are  you  angry  with 
me?" 

"No,  darling,"  he  replied  in  tones  made  tremu 
lous  with  emotion,  "not  at  all." 

"What  was  it?"  she  asked  in  a  bewildered  way; 
"what  did  I  do  ?  what  has  happened  ?" 

"Never  mind,  daughter/'  he  said,  "you  have  been 
ill;  but  you  are  better  now,  so  don't  think  any  more 
about  it." 

"She  had  better  be  put  to  bed  at  once,"  said  the 
physician. 

"There  is  blood  on  my  dress,"  cried  Elsie,  in  a 
startled  tone;  "where  did  it  come  from?" 

"You  fell  and  hurt  your  head,"  replied  her  father, 
raising  her  gently  in  his  arms ;  "but  don't  talk  any 
more  now." 

"Oh!  I  remember,"  she  moaned,  an  expression  of 
keen  distress  coming  over  her  face ;  "papa " 

"Hush!  hush!  not  a  word  more;  we  will  let 
the  past  go,"  he  said,  kissing  her  lips.  "I  shall  carry 
you  to  your  room  now,  and  see  you  put  to  bed." 

He  held  her  on  his  knee,  her  head  resting  on  his 
shoulder,  while  Chloe  prepared  her  for  rest. 

"Are  you  hungry,  daughter  ?"  he  asked. 

"No,  papa;  I  only  want  to  go  to  sleep." 

"There,  Aunt  Chloe,  that  will  do,"  he  said,  as  the 


230  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

old  nurse  tied  on  the  child's  night-cap;  and  raising 
her  again  in  his  arms,  he  carried  her  to  the  bed  and 
was  about  to  place  her  on  it. 

"Oh  papa!  my  prayers  first,  you  know,"  she  cried 
eagerly. 

"Never  mind  them  to-night,"  said  he,  "you  are  not 
able." 

"Please  let  me,  dear  papa,"  she  pleaded;  "I  cannot 
go  to  sleep  without." 

Yielding  to  her  entreaties,  he  placed  her  on  her 
knees,  and  stood  beside  her,  listening  to  her  murmured 
petitions,  in  which  he  more  than  once  heard  his  own 
name  coupled  with  a  request  that  he  might  be  made  to 
love  Jesus. 

When  she  had  finished,  he  again  raised  her  in  his 
arms,  kissed  her  tenderly  several  times,  and  then  laid 
her  carefully  on  the  bed,  saying,  as  he  did  so,  "Why 
did  you  ask,  Elsie,  that  I  might  love  Jesus  ?" 

"Because,  papa,  I  do  so  want  you  to  love  Him;  it 
would  make  you  so  happy ;  and  besides,  you  cannot  go 
to  heaven  without  it;  the  Bible  says  so." 

"Does  it?  and  what  makes  you  think  I  don't  love 
Him?" 

"Dear  papa,  please  don't  be  angry,"  she  pleaded, 
tearfully,  "but  you  know  Jesus  says,  'He  that  keepeth 
my  commandments,  he  it  is  that  loveth  me/  " 

He  stooped  over  her.  "Good  night,  daughter,"  he 
said. 

"Dear,  dear  papa,"  she  cried,  throwing  her  arm 
round  his  neck,  and  drawing  down  his  face  close  to 
hers,  "I  do  love  you  so  very,  very  much!" 


ELSIE   DtNSMORE  231 

"Better  than  anybody  else?"  he  asked 

"No,  papa,  I  love  Jesus  best;  you  next." 

He  kissed  her  again,  and  with  a  half  sigh  turned 
away  and  left  the  room.  He  was  not  entirely  pleased ; 
not  quite  willing  that  she  should  love  even  her  Saviour 
better  than  himself. 

Elsie  was  very  weary,  and  was  soon  asleep.  She 
waked  the  next  morning  feeling  nearly  as  well  as 
usual,  and  after  she  had  had  her  bath  and  been  dressed 
by  Chloe's  careful  hands,  the  curls  being  arranged  to 
conceal  the  plaster  that  covered  the  wound  on  her 
temple,  there  was  nothing  in  her  appearance,  except 
a  slight  paleness,  to  remind  her  friends  of  the  last 
night's  accident. 

She  was  sitting  reading  her  morning  chapter  when 
her  father  came  in,  and  taking  a  seat  by  her  side, 
lifted  her  to  his  knee,  saying,  as  he  caressed  her  ten 
derly,  "My  little  daughter  is  looking  pretty  well  this 
morning;  how  does  she  feel?" 

"Quite  well,  thank  you,  papa,"  she  replied,  looking 
up  into  his  face  with  a  sweet,  loving  smile. 

He  raised  the  curls  to  look  at  the  wounded  temple ; 
then,  as  he  dropped  them  again,  he  said,  with  a 
shudder,  "Elsie,  do  you  know  that  you  were  very 
near  being  killed  last  night?" 

"No,  papa,  was  I?"  she  asked  with  an  awe-struck 
countenance. 

"Yes,  the  doctor  says  if  that  wound  had  been  made 
half  an  inch  nearer  your  eye — I  should  have  been 
childless." 

His  voice  trembled  almost  too  much  for  utterance 


232  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

as  he  finished  his  sentence,  and  he  strained  her  to  his 
heart  with  a  deep  sigh  of  thankfulness  for  her  escape. 

Elsie  was  very  quiet  for  some  moments,  and  the 
little  face  was  almost  sad  in  its  deep  thoughtfulness. 

"What   are  you  thinking  of,   darling?"   he   asked. 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his  face  and  he  saw  that 
they  were  brimful  of  tears. 

"O  papa !"  she  said,  dropping  her  head  on  his  breasi 
while  the  bright  drops  fell  like  rain  down  her  cheeks, 
"would  you  have  been  so  very  sorry?" 

"Sorry,  darling !  do  you  not  know  that  you  are  more 
precious  to  me  than  all  my  wealth,  all  my  friends  and 
relatives  put  together  ?  Yes,  I  would  rather  part  with 
everything  else  than  lose  this  one  little  girl,"  he  said, 
kissing  her  again  and  again. 

"Dear,  dear  papa !  how  glad  I  am  that  you  love  me 
so  much !"  she  replied ;  and  then  relapsed  into  silence. 

He  watched  her  changing  countenance  for  some 
time,  then  asked,  "What  is  it,  darling?" 

"I  was  just  thinking,"  she  said,  "whether  I  was 
ready  to  go  to  heaven,  and  I  believe  I  was;  for  I 
know  that  I  love  Jesus ;  and  then  I  was  thinking  how 
glad  mamma  would  have  been  to  see  me;  don't  you 
think  she  would,  papa?" 

"I  can't  spare  you  to  her  yet,"  he  replied  with  emo 
tion,  "and  I  think  she  loves  me  too  well  to  wish  it." 

As  Miss  Day  had  not  yet  returned,  Elsie's  time  was 
still  pretty  much  at  her  own  disposal,  excepting  when 
her  papa  gave  her  something  to  do;  so,  after  break 
fast,  finding  that  he  was  engaged  with  some  one  in 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  233 

the  library,  she  took  her  Bible,  and  seeking  out  a 
shady  retreat  in  the  garden,  sat  down  to  read. 

The  Bible  was  ever  the  book  of  books  to  her,  and 
this  morning  the  solemn,  tender  feelings  naturally 
caused  by  the  discovery  of  her  recent  narrow  escape 
from  sudden  death  made  it  even  more  than  usually 
touching  and  beautiful  in  her  eyes.  She  had  been 
alone  in  the  arbor  for  some  time,  when,  hearing  a  step 
at  her  side,  she  looked  up,  showing  a  face  all  wet  with 
tears. 

It  was  Mr.  Travilla  who  stood  beside  her. 

"In  tears,  little  Elsie !  Pray,  what  may  the  book  be 
that  effects  you  so?"  he  asked,  sitting  down  by  her 
side  and  taking  it  from  her  hand.  "The  Bible,  I  de 
clare!"  he  exclaimed  in  surprise.  "What  can  there* 
be  in  it  that  you  find  so  affecting?" 

"O  Mr.  Travilla!"  said  the  little  girl,  "does  it  not 
make  your  heart  ache  to  read  how  the  Jews  abused 
our  dear,  dear  Saviour  ?  and  then  to  think  that  it  was 
all  because  of  our  sins,"  she  sobbed. 

He  looked  half  distressed,  half  puzzled ;  it  seemed  a 
new  idea  to  him. 

"Really,  my  little  Elsie,"  he  said,  "you  are  quite 
original  in  your  ideas.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  feel  un 
happy  about  these  things,  but  indeed  the  truth  is,  I 
have  never  thought  much  about  them." 

"Then  you  don't  love  Jesus,"  she  answered,  mourn 
fully.  "Ah!  Mr.  Travilla,  how  sorry  I  am." 

"Why,  Elsie,  what  difference  can  it  make  to  you 
whether  I  love  Him  or  not  ?" 

"Because,  Mr.  Travilla,  the  Bible  says,  'If  any  man 


234  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

love  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  let  him  be  anathema, 
maranatha/  accursed  from  God.  Oh!  sir,  think  how 
dreadful !  You  cannot  be  saved  unless  you  love  Jesus, 
and  believe  on  Him.  'Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved/  That  is  what  God 
says  in  his  word." 

She  spoke  with  deep  solemnity,  the  tears  trembling 
in  her  eyes.  He  was  touched,  but  for  a  while  sat  per 
fectly  silent. 

Then  he  said,  with  an  effort  to  speak  lightly.  "Ah, 
well,  my  little  friend,  I  certainly  intend  to  repent  and 
believe  before  I  die,  but  there  is  time  enough  yet." 

"Mr.  Travilla,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  his 
arm  and  looking  earnestly  into  his  face,  "how  do  you 
know  that  there  is  time  enough  yet  ?  don't  put  it  off,  I 
beg  of  you." 

She  paused  a  moment;  then  asked,  "Do  you  know, 
Mr.  Travilla,  how  near  I  came  to  being  killed  last 
night?" 

He  nodded. 

"Well,  suppose  I  had  been  killed,  and  had  not  loved 
Jesus ;  where  would  I  be  now  ?" 

He  put  his  arm  round  her,  and  giving  her  a  kiss, 
said,  "I  don't  think  you  would  have  been  in  any  very 
bad  place,  Elsie;  a  sweet,  amiable  little  girl,  who  has 
never  harmed  any  one,  would  surely  not  fare  very 
badly  in  another  world." 

She  shook  her  head  very  gravely. 

"Ah!  Mr.  Travilla,  you  forget  the  anathema,  mar- 
anatha;  if  I  had  not  loved  Jesus,  and  had  my  sins 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  235 

washed  away  in  His  blood,  I  could  not  have  been 
saved." 

Just  at  this  moment  a  servant  came  to  tell  Elsie 
that  her  papa  wanted  her  in  the  drawing-room,  and 
Mr.  Travilla,  taking  her  hand,  led  her  into  the  house. 

They  found  the  company  again  grouped  about  the 
piano,  listening  to  Adelaide's  music. 

Elsie  went  directly  to  her  father  and  stood  by  his 
side,  putting  her  hand  in  his  with  a  gesture  of  confid 
ing  affection. 

He  smiled  down  at  her,  and  kept  fast  hold  of  it 
until  his  sister  had  risen  from  the  instrument,  when 
putting  Elsie  in  her  place,  he  said,  "Now,  my  daugh 
ter,  let  us  have  that  song." 

"Yes,  papa,"  she  replied,  beginning  the  prelude  at 
once,  "I  will  do  my  very  best." 

And  so  she  did.  The  song  was  both  well  played 
and  well  sung,  and  her  father  looked  proud  and  happy 
as  the  gentlemen  expressed  their  pleasure  and  asked 
for  another  and  another. 

Thus  the  clouds  which  had  so  suddenly  obscured 
little  Elsie's  sky,  seemed  to  have  vanished  as  speedily 
as  they  had  arisen. 

Her  father  again  treated  her  with  all  his  wonted 
affection,  and  there  even  seemed  to  be  a  depth  of 
tenderness  in  his  love  which  it  had  not  known  before, 
for  he  could  not  forget  how  nearly  he  had  lost  hen 


CHAPTER  ELEVENTH 

"In  that  hour  Jesus  rejoiced  in  spirit,  and  said,  I  thanh 
thee,  O  Father,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  that  thou  hast  hid 
these  things  from  the  wise  and  prudent,  and  hast  revealed 
them  unto  babes ;  even  so,  Father ;  for  so  it  seemed  good  in 
thy  sight." — Luke  x.  21. 

Says  the  Apostle  Paul,  "I  say  the  truth  in  Christ, 
I  lie  not,  my  conscience  also  bearing  me  witness  in 
the  Holy  Ghost,  that  I  have  great  heaviness  and  con 
tinual  sorrow  in  my  heart,  for  I  could  wish  that  my 
self  were  accursed  from  Christ,  for  my  brethren,  my 
kinsmen  according  to  the  flesh.  .  .  .  Brethren,  my 
heart's  desire  and  prayer  to  God  for  Israel  is,  that 
they  might  be  saved." 

And  such,  dear  reader,  is,  in  greater  or  less  degree, 
the  feeling  of  every  renewed  heart;  loving  Jesus,  it 
would  fain  have  others  love  Him  too;  it  desires  the 
salvation  of  all;  but  for  that  of  its  own  dear  ones  it 
longs  and  labors  and  prays;  it  is  like  Jacob  wrestling 
with  the  angel,  when  he  said,  "I  will  not  let  thee  go, 
except  thou  bless  me." 

And  thus  it  was  with  Elsie.  She  knew  now  that 
her  father  was  not  a  Christian ;  that  he  had  no  real  love 
for  Jesus,  none  of  the  true  fear  of  God  before  his 
eyes.  She  saw  that  if  he  permitted  her  to  read  to 

236 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  237 

him  from  God's  word,  as  he  sometimes  did,  it  was 
not  that  he  felt  any  pleasure  in  listening,  but  only  to 
please  her ;  she  had  no  reason  to  suppose  he  ever 
prayed,  and  though  he  went  regularly  to  church,  it 
was  because  he  considered  it  proper  and  respectable 
to  do  so,  and  not  that  he  cared  to  worship  God,  or 
to  learn  His  will. 

This  conviction,  which  had  gradually  dawned  upon 
Elsie,  until  now  it  amounted  to  certainty,  caused  her 
great  grief;  she  shed  many  tears  over  it  in  secret, 
and  very  many  and  very  earnest  were  the  prayers 
she  offered  up  for  her  dear  father's  conversion. 

She  was  sitting  on  his  knee  one  evening  in  the 
drawing-room,  while  he  and  several  other  gentlemen 
v/ere  conversing  on  the  subject  of  religion.  They 
were  discussing  the  question  whether  or  no  a  change 
of  heart  were  necessary  to  salvation. 

The  general  opinion  seemed  to  be  that  it  was  not, 
and  Elsie  listened  with  pain  while  her  father  expressed 
his  decided  conviction  that  all  who  led  an  honest£ 
upright,  moral  life,  and  attended  to  the  outward  ob 
servances  of  religion,  were  quite  safe. 

"He  could  see  no  necessity  for  a  change  of  heart; 
he  did  not  believe  in  the  doctrine  of  total  depravity, 
not  he;  no  indeed,  he  thought  the  world  much  bet 
ter  than  many  people  would  have  us  believe." 

Elsie  fixed  her  eyes  on  his  face  with  a  very  mourn* 
ful  gaze  while  he  was  speaking,  but  he  was  busy 
with  his  argument  and  did  not  notice  her. 

But  one  of  the  guests  was  just  expressing  his  ap 
proval  of  Mr.  Dinsmore's  sentiments,  when  catch- 


238  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

ing  sight  of  Elsie's  face,  he  stopped,  remarking, 
"Your  little  girl  looks  as  if  she  had  something  to 
say  on  the  subject;  what  is  it,  my  dear?" 

Elsie  blushed,  hesitated,  and  looked  at  her  father. 

"Yes,  speak,  my  daughter,  if  you  have  anything 
to  say,"  he  said  encouragingly. 

Elsie  lifted  her  eyes  timidly  to  the  gentleman's 
face  as  she  replied,  "I  was  just  thinking,  sir,  of  what 
our  Saviour  said  to  Nicodemus:  'Verily,  verily  I  say 
unto  thee,  except  a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot 
see  the  kingdom  of  God/  'Marvel  not  that  I  said 
unto  thee,  Ye  must  be  born  again.' " 

She  repeated  these  words  of  inspiration  with  a 
deep,  earnest  solemnity  that  seemed  to  impress  every 
hearer. 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  deep  hush  in  the  room. 

Then  the  gentleman  asked,  "Well,  my  little  lady, 
and  what  is  meant  by  being  born  again?" 

"O  sir !"  she  replied,  "surely  you  know  that  it  means 
to  have  the  image  of  God,  lost  in  Adam's  fall,  re 
stored  to  us;  it  means  what  David  asked  for  when 
he  prayed,  'Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  O  God,  and 
renew  a  right  spirit  within  me.' " 

"Where  did  you  learn  all  this?"  he  asked,  looking 
at  her  with  mingled  surprise  and  admiration. 

"In  the  Bible,  sir,"  she  modestly  replied. 

"You  seem  to  have  read  it  to  some  purpose,"  said 
he;  "and  now  since  you  consider  that  change  so 
necessary,  can  you  tell  me  how  it  is  to  be  brought 
about?" 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  239 

"God's  Holy  Spirit,  alone,  can  change  a  sinner's 
heart,  sir." 

"And  how  am  I  to  secure  His  aid?"  he  asked. 

Elsie  answered  with  a  text:  "God  is  more  willing 
to  give  His  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  Him,  than 
parents  are  to  give  good  gifts  unto  their  children." 

He  paused  a  moment;  then  asked,  "Have  you  ob 
tained  this  new  heart,  Miss  Elsie?" 

"I  hope  I  have,  sir,"  she  replied,  the  sweet  little  face 
all  suffused  with  blushes,  and  the  soft,  downcast  eyes 
filling  with  tears. 

"Why  do  you  think  so?"  he  asked  again.  "I  think 
there  is  a  text  that  says  you  must  be  able  always  to 
give  a  reason  for  the  hope  that  is  in  you,  or  some 
thing  to  that  effect,  is  there  not  ?" 

"Yes,  sir:  'Be  ready  always  to  give  an  answer  to 
every  man  that  asketh  you  a  reason  of  the  hope  that 
is  in  you,  with  meekness  and  fear.' "  Then  raising 
her  eyes  to  his  face  with  a  touching  mixture  of  deep 
humility  and  holy  boldness,  she  continued,  "And 
this,  sir  is  my  answer:  Jesus  says,  'Him  that  cometh 
unto  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out;'  and  I  believe 
Him.  I  did  go  to  Him,  and  He  did  not  cait  me  out, 
but  forgave  my  sins,  and  taught  me  to  love  Him  and 
desire  to  serve  Him  all  my  life." 

This  conversation  between  the  gentleman  and  the 
little  girl  had  drawn  the  attention  of  all  present ;  and 
now  Mrs.  Dinsmore,  who  had  more  than  once  shown 
signs  of  impatience,  said,  "Well,  Elsie,  I  think  you 
have  now  talked  quite  enough  for  a  child  of  your 


240  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

age."  Then,  pulling  out  her  watch,  "It  is  high  time 
for  little  folks  to  be  in  bed." 

Elsie,  blushing  deeply,  would  have  retired  immedi 
ately,  but  her  father  held  her  fast,  saying,  as  he  gave 
his  stepmother  an  angry  glance,  "You  need  not  go, 
Elsie,  unless  you  choose;  I  am  quite  capable  of  judg 
ing  when  it  is  time  to  send  you  to  bed." 

"I  would  rather  go,  if  you  please,  papa,"  whis 
pered  Elsie,  who  had  a  great  dread  of  Mrs.  Dins- 
more's  anger. 

"Very  well,  then,  you  may  do  as  you  like,"  he 
replied,  giving  her  a  good-night  kiss.  And  with  a 
graceful  good-night  to  the  company,  the  little  girl 
left  the  room. 

Her  questioner  followed  her  with  an  admiring 
glance,  then  turning  to  her  father,  exclaimed  warmly, 
"She  is  a  remarkably  intelligent  child,  Dinsmorel 
one  that  any  father  might  be  proud  of.  I  was  aston 
ished  at  her  answers." 

"Yes,"  remarked  Travilla,  "a  text  has  been  run 
ning  in  my  head  ever  since  you  commenced  your  con 
versation;  something  about  these  things  being  hid 
from  the  wise  and  prudent,  and  revealed  unto  babes. 
And,"  he  added,  "I  am  sure  if  ever  I  saw  one  who 
possessed  that  new  nature  of  which  she  spoke,  it  Is 
she  herself.  Has  she  any  faults,  Dinsmore?" 

"Very  few,  /  think;  though  she  would  tell  you  a 
different  story,"  replied  her  father  with  a  gratified 
smile. 

The  next  morning  Elsie  was  sitting  reading  her 
Bible,  when  she  suddenly  felt  9  hand  J=»H  on  her 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  241 

head,  and  her  father's  voice  said,  "Good  morning, 
little  daughter." 

"Ah!  papa,  is  that  you?"  she  asked,  raising  her 
head  to  give  him  a  smile  of  joyful  welcome.  "I  did 
not  know  you  were  there." 

"Ah!  I  have  been  watching  you  for  several  min 
utes,"  he  said;  "always  poring  over  the  same  book, 
Elsie;  do  you  never  tire  of  it?" 

"No,  indeed,  papa;  it  is  always  new,  and  I  do 
love  it  so;  it  is  so  very  sweet.  May  I  read  a  little 
to  you?"  she  added  coaxingly. 

"Yes,  I  love  to  listen  to  anything  read  by  my 
darling,"  he  said,  sitting  down  and  taking  her  on 
his  knee. 

She  opened  at  the  third  chapter  of  John's  Gospel 
and  read  it  through.  At  the  sixteenth  verse,  "For 
God  so  loved  the  world,  that  He  gave  His  only  begot 
ten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  Him  should  not 
perish,  but  have  everlasting  life,"  she  paused,  and 
asked,  "Was  not  that  a  wonderful  gift,  papa?  and 
wonderful  love  that  prompted  it?" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  absently  stroking  her  hair. 

She  finished  the  chapter,  and  closing  the  book, 
laid  her  head  on  his  breast,  asking,  "Dear  papa, 
don't  you  believe  the  Bible?" 

"Certainly,  daughter;  I  am  not  an  infidel,"  he  re 
plied  in  a  careless  tone. 

"Well,  then,  papa,"  she  continued,  half  hesitat 
ingly,  "does  not  this  chapter  teach  very  plainly  that 
we  must  love  Jesus,  and  have  new  hearts,  if  we  want 
to  go  to  heaven  ?" 


H2  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  dare  say  it  does." 

Then  taking  the  book  from  her,  he  laid  it  aside, 
and  giving  her  a  kiss,  said,  "I  was  much  pleased  with 
your  intelligent  answers  to  Mr.  Lee,  last  evening." 

Elsie  sighed,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  It 
was  not  what  she  wanted. 

"What  an  odd  child  you  are!"  he  said,  laughing. 
"You  really  look  as  though  I  had  been  scolding,  in 
stead  of  praising  you." 

She  dropped  her  head  on  his  breast,  and  burst  Into 
tears  and  sobs. 

"Why,  Elsie,  my  own  darling,  what  ails  you?"  he 
asked  in  great  surprise. 

"O  papa!"  she  sobbed,  "I  want  you  to  love  Jesus." 

"Oh!  is  fAa*  all?"  he  said. 

And  setting  her  on  her  feet,  he  took  her  by  the 
hand  and  led  her  out  into  the  garden,  where  they 
met  Mr.  Travilla  and  another  gentleman,  who  immedi 
ately  entered  into  conversation  with  Mr.  Dinsmore, 
while  Elsie  wandered  about  amongst  the  flowers  and 
shrubs,  gathering  a  nosegay  for  her  Aunt  Adelaide. 


CHAPTER  TWELFTH 

*She  had  waited  for  their  coming, 

She  had  kiss'd  them  o'er  and  o'er — 
And  they  were  so  fondly  treasured 
For  the  words  of  love  they  bore, 
Words  that  whispered  in  the  silence, 

She  had  listened  till  his  tone 
Seemed  to  linger  in  the  echo 
'Darling,  thou  art  all  mine  own !' " 

—MRS.  J.  C.  NEAL. 

"Pray,  what  weighty  matter  is  troubling  your  young 
brain,  birdie?"  asked  Adelaide,  laughingly  laying  her 
hand  on  Elsie's  shoulder.  "Judging  from  the  ex 
ceeding  gravity  of  your  countenance,  one  might  im 
agine  that  the  affairs  of  the  nation  had  been  com 
mitted  to  your  care." 

"O  auntie!  can't  you  help  me?  won't  you?"  an-, 
swered  the  little  girl,  looking  up  coaxinMy  into  tha 
bright,  cheerful  face  bent  over  her. 

"Help  you  in  what?  reading  with  your  book  upside 
down,  eh?"  asked  Adelaide,  pointing  with  a  quizzicaf 
look  at  the  volume  of  fairy  tales  in  her  little  niece's 
lap. 

"Oh!"  cried  Elsie,  coloring  and  laughing  in  her 
turn,  "I  was  not  reading,  and  did  not  know  that  my 
book  was  wrong  side  up.  But,  Aunt  Adelaide,  you 
know  Christmas  is  coming  soon,  and  I  want  to  give 

243 


244  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

papa  something,  and  I  am  quite  puzzled  about  it.  I 
thought  of  slippers,  but  he  has  a  very  handsome  pair, 
and  besides  there  would  hardly  be  time  to  work  them, 
as  I  have  so  many  lessons;  a  purse  won't  do  either, 
because  I  have  given  him  one  already,  and  I  would 
like  it  to  be  something  worth  more  than  either  slip 
pers  or  purse.  But  you  are  so  much  wiser  than  I, 
can't  you  help  me  think?" 

"So  this  is  what  has  kept  you  so  quiet  and  demure 
all  day  that  I  have  scarcely  once  heard  you  laugh  or 
sing;  quite  an  unusual  state  of  things  of  late,"  and 
Adelaide  playfully  pinched  the  round,  rosy  cheek. 
"Ahem !  let  me  put  on  my  thinking  cap,"  assuming  an 
air  of  comic  gravity.  "Ah !  yes,  I  have  it !  your  minia 
ture,  little  one,  of  course;  what  could  please  him  bet 
ter?" 

"Oh!  yes,"  cried  Elsie,  clapping  her  hands,  "that 
will  do  nicely;  why  didn't  I  think  of  it?  Thank  you, 
auntie.  But  then,"  she  added,  her  countenance  fall 
ing,  "how  can  I  get  it  taken  without  his  knowledge? 
you  know  the  surprise  is  half  the  fun." 

"Never  mind,  my  dear,  I'll  find  a  way  to  manage 
that,"  replied  Adelaide,  confidently;  "so  just  run  away 
with  you  now,  and  see  how  much  money  you  can 
scrape  together  to  spend  on  it." 

"It  won't  take  long  to  count  it,"  Elsie  said  with  a 
merry  laugh.  "But  here  is  papa  just  coming  in  at  the 
door;  I  hope  he  won't  suspect  what  we  have  been 
talking  about, '  and  she  bounded  away  to  meet  him 
and  claim  the  kiss  he  never  refused  her  now. 

Once  Adelaide  would  not  have  been  surprised  at 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  245 

Elsie's  quietness.  Patient  and  sweet  tempered  the 
little  girl  had  always  been,  but  more  especially  after 
her  father's  return  from  Europe — very  quiet  and 
timid,  seeming  to  shrink  from  observation,  with  a 
constant  dread  of  incurring  reproof  or  punishment; 
but  the  last  few  happy  months,  during  which  her 
father  had  continued  to  lavish  upon  her  every  proof 
of  the  tenderest  affection,  had  wrought  a  great  change 
in  her;  her  manner  had  lost  its  timidity,  she  moved 
about  the  house  with  a  light  and  joyous  step,  and  it 
was  no  unusual  thing  to  hear  her  merry,  silvery  lauigh 
ring  out,  or  her  sweet  voice  carolling  like  some  wild 
bird  of  the  wood — the  natural  outgushings  of  her 
joy  and  thankfulness;  for  the  little  heart  that  had  so 
long  been  famishing  for  love,  that  had  often  grown 
so  weary  and  sick  in  its  hungering  and  thirsting  for 
it,  was  now  fully  satisfied,  and  revelled  in  its  new 
found  happiness. 

"I  have  got  it  all  arranged  nicely,  Elsie,"  Adelaide 
said,  coming  into  the  room  with  a  very  pleased  face 
as  the  little  girl  was  preparing  for  bed  that  evening. 
"Your  papa  is  going  away  in  a  day  or  two  to  attend 
to  some  business  matters  connected  with  your  prop 
erty,  and  will  be  absent  at  least  two  weeks;  so,  un 
less  he  should  take  it  into  his  head  to  carry  you  along, 
we  can  easily  manage  about  the  picture." 

Elsie  looked  up  with  a  countenance  of  blank  dis 
may. 

"Why,"  said  Adelaide,  laughing,  "I  thought  you'd 
be  delighted  with  my  news,  and  instead  of  that,  you 
look  as  if  I  had  read  you  your  death-warrant." 


246  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"O  Aunt  Adelaide!  two  whole  weeks  without  see* 
ing  papa!  just  think  how  long." 

"Pooh!  nonsense,  child!  it  will  be  gone  before  you 
know  it.  But  now  tell  me,  how  much  money  have 
you?" 

"I  have  saved  my  allowance  for  two  months;  that 
makes  twenty  dollars,  you  know,  auntie,  and  I  have 
a  little  change  besides;  do  you  think  it  will  be 
enough  ?" 

"Hardly,  I'm  afraid;  but  I  can  lend  you  some,  if 
necessary." 

"Thank  you,  auntie,"  Elsie  answered  gratefully, 
"you  are  very  kind;  but  I  couldn't  take  it,  because 
papa  has  told  me  expressly  that  I  must  never  borrow 
money,  nor  run  into  debt  in  any  way." 

"Dear  me !"  exclaimed  Adelaide,  a  little  impatiently ; 
"Horace  certainly  is  the  most  absurdly  strict  person  I 
ever  met  with.  But  never  mind,  I  think  we  can  man 
age  it  somehow,"  she  added,  in  a  livelier  tone,  as  she 
stooped  to  kiss  her  little  niece  good-night. 

Elsie's  gentle  rap  was  heard  very  early  at  her  papa's 
door  the  next  morning. 

He  opened  it  immediately,  and  springing  into  his 
arms,  she  asked,  almost  tearfully,  "Are  you  going 
away,  papa?" 

"Yes,  darling,"  he  said,  caressing  her  fondly.  "I 
must  leave  home  for  a  few  weeks ;  and  though  I  at 
first  thought  of  taking  you  with  me,  upon  further 
consideration  I  have  decided  that  it  will  be  better  to 
leave  you  here;  yet,  if  you  desire  it  very  much,  my 
pet,  I  will  take  you  along.  Shall  I  ?" 


ELSIE    DINSMORE  247 

"You  know  I  would  always  rather  be  with  you 
than  anywhere  else,  papa,"  she  answered,  laying  her 
head  on  his  shoulder;  "but  you  know  best,  and  I 
am  quite  willing  to  do  whatever  you  say." 

"That  is  right,  daughter;  my  little  Elsie  is  a  good, 
obedient  child,"  he  said,  pressing  her  closer  to  him. 

"When  are  you  going  papa?"  she  asked,  her  voice 
trembling  a  little. 

"To-morrow,  directly  after  dinner,  daughter." 

"So  soon,"  she  sighed. 

"The  sooner  I  leave  you  the  sooner  I  shall  return, 
you  know,  darling,"  he  said,  patting  her  cheek,  and 
smiling  kindly  on  her. 

"Yes,  papa;  but  two  weeks  seems  such  a  long,  long 
time." 

He  smiled.  "At  your  age  I  suppose  it  does,  but 
when  you  are  as  old  as  I  am,  you  will  think  it  very 
short.  But  to  make  it  pass  more  quickly,  you  may 
write  me  a  little  letter  every  day,  and  I  will  send  you 
one  just  as  often." 

"Oh!  thank  you,  papa;  that  will  be  so  pleasant," 
she  answered,  with  a  brightening  countenance.  "I  do 
so  love  to  get  letters,  and  I  would  rather  have  one 
from  you  than  from  anybody  else." 

"Ah?  then  I  think  you  ought  to  be  willing  to  spare 
me  for  two  weeks.  I  have  been  thinking  my  little 
girl  might  perhaps  be  glad  of  a  little  extra  pocket- 
money  for  buying  Christmas  gifts,"  he  said,  taking 
out  his  purse.  "Would  you?" 

"Yes,  papa ;  oh !  very  much,  indeed." 

He  laughed  at  her  eager  tone,  and  putting  a  fifty- 


248  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

dollar  note    into    her    hand,  asked,    "Will    that    be 
enough  ?" 

Elsie's  eyes  opened  wide  with  astonishment. 

"I  never  before  had  half  so  much  as  this,"  she  ex 
claimed.  May  I  spend  it  all,  papa?" 

"Provided  you  don't  throw  it  away,"  he  answered 
gravely;  "but  don't  forget  that  I  require  a  strict  ac 
count  of  all  your  expenditure." 

"Must  I  tell  you  every  thing  I  buy  ?"  she  asked,  her 
countenance  falling  considerably. 

"Yes,  my  child,  you  must;  not  until  after  Christ 
mas,  however,  if  you  would  rather  not." 

"I  will  not  mind  it  so  much  then,"  she  answered, 
looking  quite  relieved;  "but  indeed,  papa,  it  is  a  great 
deal  of  trouble." 

"Ah !  my  little  girl  must  not  be  lazy,"  he  said,  shak 
ing  his  head  gravely. 

This  was  Elsie's  first  parting  from  her  father  since 
they  had  learned  to  know  and  love  each  other;  and 
when  the  time  came  to  say  good-by,  she  clung  to  him, 
and  seemed  so  loath  to  let  him  go,  that  he  quite  re-\ 
pented  of  his  determination  to  leave  her  at  home.     / 

"O  papa,  papa!  I  cannot  bear  to  have  you  go,  and* 
leave  me  behind,"  she  sobbed.     "I  feel  as  if  you  were 
never  coming  back." 

"Why,  my  own  darling,"  he  said,  kissing  her  again 
and  again,  "why  do  you  talk  so?  I  shall  certainly  be 
at  home  again  in  a  fortnight;  but  if  I  had  thought 
you  would  feel  so  badly,  I  would  have  made  arrange 
ments  to  take  you  with  me.  It  is  too  late  now,  how 
ever,  and  you  must  let  me  go,  dearest.  Be  a  gooJ 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  249 

girl  while  I  am  gone,  and  when  I  return  I  will  bring 
you  some  handsome  presents." 

So  saying,  he  embraced  her  once  more,  then  put 
ting  her  gently  from  him,  sprang  into  the  carriage 
land  was  driven  rapidly  away. 

Elsie  stood  watching  until  it  was  out  of  sight,  and 
'  then  ran  away  to  her  own  room  to  put  her  arms  round 
her  nurse's  neck  and  hide  her  tears  on  her  bosom. 

"Dere,  dere,  darlin' !  dat  will  do  now.  Massa  Hor 
ace  he  be  back  'fore  long,  and  ole  Chloe  don'  like 
for  to  see  her  chile  'stressin'  herself  so,"  and  the  large, 
dusky  hand  was  passed  lovingly  over  the  bright  curls, 
and  tenderly  wiped  away  the  falling  tears. 

"But,  O  mammy!  I'm  afraid  he  will  never  come 
back.  I'm  afraid  the  steamboat  boiler  will  burst,  or 
the  cars  will  run  off  the  track,  or " 

"Hush,  hush,  darlin'!  dat's  wicked;  you  must  jes' 
trust  de  Lord  to  take  care  of  Massa  Horace;  He's 
jes'  as  able  to  do  it  one  place  as  in  tudder;  an  ef  you 
an'  your  ole  mammy  keep  prayin'  for  Massa,  I'se  sure 
he'll  come  back  safe,  kase  don't  you  remember  what 
de  good  book  says,  'If  any  two  of  you  agree '  " 

"Oh!  yes,  dear  mammy,  thank  you  for  remember 
ing  it,"  exclaimed  the  little  girl,  lifting  her  head  and 
smiling  through  her  tears.  "I  won't  cry  any  more 
now,  but  will  just  try  to  keep  thinking  how  glad  I 
,  A-ill  be  when  papa  comes  home  again." 

"A  very  sensible  resolution,  my  dear,"  said  Ade 
laide,  putting  her  head  in  at  the  door;  "so  come,  dry 
your  eyes,  and  let  mammy  put  on  your  bonnet  and 
cloak  as  fast  as  possible,  for  I  have  begged  a  holiday 


250  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

fcr  you,  and  am  going  to  carry  you  off  to  the  city  to 
do  some  shopping,  et  cetera." 

"Ah !  I  think  I  know  what  that  et  cetera  means, 
auntie,  don't  I  ?"  laughed  Elsie,  as  she  hastened  to 
obey. 

"Dear  me!  how  very  wise  some  people  are,"  said 
her  aunt,  smiling  and  nodding  good-naturedly.  "But 
make  haste,  my  dear,  for  the  carriage  is  at  the  door." 

When  Elsie  laid  her  head  upon  her  pillow  that 
night  she  acknowledged  to  herself,  that  in  spite  of 
her  father's  absence — and  she  had,  at  times,  missed 
him  sadly — the  day  had  been  a  very  short  and  pleas 
ant  one  to  her,  owing  to  her  Aunt  Adelaide's  thought 
ful  kindness  in  taking  her  out  into  new  scenes,  and 
giving  agreeable  occupation  to  her  thoughts. 

She  rose  at  her  usual  early  hour  the  next  morning, 
and  though  feeling  lonely,  comforted  herself  with  the 
hope  of  receiving  the  promised  letter;  and  her  face 
was  full  of  eager  expectation,  as  her  grandfather,  in 
his  usual  leisurely  manner,  opened  the  bag  and  dis 
tributed  its  contents. 

"Two  letters  for  Elsie!"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  sur 
prise,  just  as  she  was  beginning  to  despair  of  her 
turn  coming  at  all.  "Ah ;  one  is  from  Horace,  I  see ; 
and  the  other  from  Miss  Allison,  no  doubt." 

Elsie  could  hardly  restrain  her  eagerness  while  he 
held  them  in  his  hand,  examining  and  commenting 
upon  the  address,  postmark,  etc. 

But  at  length  he  tossed  them  to  her,  remarking, 
"There!  if  you  are  done  your  breakfast,  you  had 
better  run  away  and  read  them*" 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  251 

"Oh !  thank  you,  grandpa,"  she  said,  gladly  availing 
herself  of  his  permission. 

"Elsie  is  fortunate  to-day,"  observed  Lora  look 
ing  after  her.  "I  wonder  which  she  will  read  first." 

"Her  father's,  of  course,"  replied  Adelaide.  "He 
is  more  to  her  than  all  the  rest  of  the  world  put 
together." 

"A  matter  of  small  concern  to  the  rest  of  the  world, 
I  opine,"  remarked  Mrs.  Dinsmore,  dryly. 

"Perhaps  so,  mamma,"  said  Adelaide,  quietly;  "yet 
I  think  there  are  some  who  prize  Elsie's  affection." 

Yes,  Adelaide  was  right.  Miss  Rose's  letter  was 
neglected  and  almost  forgotten,  while  Elsie  read  and 
reread  her  papa's  with  the  greatest  delight. 

It  gave  an  amusing  account  of  the  day's  journey; 
but  what  constituted  its  chief  charm  for  the  little  girl 
was  that  it  was  filled  with  expressions  of  the  tenderest 
affection  for  her. 

Then  came  the  pleasant  task:  ot  answering,  which 
occupied  almost  all  her  spare  time,  for  letter-writing 
was  still,  to  her,  a  rather  new  and  difficult  business, 
Miss  Allison  having  hitherto  been  her  only  corre 
spondent.  And  this  was  a  pleasure  which  was  re 
newed  every  day,  for  her  papa  faithfully  kept  his 
promise,  each  morning  bringing  her  a  letter,  until  at 
length  one  came  announcing  the  speedy  return  of  the 
writer. 

Elsie  was  almost  wild  with  delight. 

"Aunt  Adelaide,"  she  cried,  running  to  her  to  com 
municate  the  glad  tidings,  "papa  says  he  will  be  here 
this  very  afternoon." 


252  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"Well,  my  dear,  as  we  have  already  attended  to 
all  the  business  that  needed  to  be  kept  secret  from 
him,  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,  especially  for  your 
sake,"  replied  Adelaide,  looking  up  for  a  moment 
from  the  book  she  was  reading,  and  then  returning 
to  it  again,  while  her  little  niece  danced  out  of  the 
room,  with  her  papa's  letter  still  in  her  hand,  and  a 
face  beaming  with  happiness. 

She  met  Mrs.  Dinsmore  in  the  hall. 

"Why  are  you  skipping  about  in  that  mad  fashion, 
Elsie?"  she  asked,  severely;  "I  believe  you  will  never 
learn  to  move  and  act  like  a  lady." 

"I  will  try,  madam,  indeed,"  Elsie  answered,  sub 
siding  into  a  slow  and  steady  gait  which  would  not 
have  disgraced  a  woman  of  any  age;  "but  I  was  so 
glad  that  papa  is  coming  home  to-day,  that  I  could 
not  help  skipping." 

"Indeed !"  and  with  a  scornful  toss  of  the  head, 
Mrs.  Dinsmore  sailed  past  her  and  entered  the  draw 
ing-room. 

Elsie  had  once,  on  her  first  arrival  at  Roselands, 
addressed  Mrs.  Dinsmore,  in  the  innocence  of  her 
heart,  as  "grandma,"  but  that  lady's  horrified  look, 
and  indignant  repudiation  of  the  ancient  title,  had 
made  a  deep  impression  on  the  little  girl's  memory, 
and  effectually  prevented  any  repetition  of  the  offence. 

As  the  hour  drew  near  when  her  father  might  rea 
sonably  be  expected,  Elsie  took  her  station  at  one  of 
the  drawing-room  windows  overlooking  the  avenue, 
and  the  moment  the  carriage  appeared  in  sight,  she 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  253 

Iran  out  and  stood  waiting  for  him  on  the  steps  of 
*he  portico. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  put  out  his  head  as  they  drove  up 
the  avenue,  and  the  first  object  that  caught  his  eye 
was  the  fairy-like  form  of  his  little  daughter,  in  hel 
blue  merino  dress,  and  the  golden  brown  curls  wav 
ing  in  the  wind.  He  sprang  out  and  caught  her  ID 
his  arms  the  instant  the  carriage  stopped. 

"My  darling,  darling  child,"  he  cried,  kissing  her 
over  and  over  again,  and  pressing  her  fondly  to  his 
heart,  "how  glad  I  am  to  have  you  in  my  arms  again !" 

"Papa,  papa,  my  own  dear,  dear  papa!"  she  ex 
claimed,  throwing  her  arms  around  his  neck,  "I'm  so 
happy,  now  that  you  have  come  home  safe  and  well.'9 

"Are  you,  darling?  but  I  must  not  keep  you  out 
in  this  wind,  for  it  is  quite  chilly." 

He  set  her  down,  and  leaving  the  servant  to  attend 
fco  his  baggage,  led  her  into  the  hall. 

"Will  you  come  into  the  drawing-room,  papa?"' 
she  said;  "there  is  a  bright,  warm  fire  there." 

"Is  there  not  one  in  my  dressing-room?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  papa,  a  very  good  one." 

"Then  we  will  go  there.  I  dare  say  the  rest  of 
the  family  are  in  no  great  hurry  to  see  me,  and  I 
want  my  little  girl  to  myself  for  half  an  hour,"  he 
said,  leading  the  way  up-stairs  as  he  spoke. 

They  found,  as  Elsie  had  reported,  a  very  bright 
fire  in  the  dressing-room.  A  large  easy  chair  was 
drawn  up  near  it,  and  a  handsome  dressing-gown  and 
slippers  were  placed  ready  for  use;  all  the  work  of 
Elsie's  loving  little  hands. 


<c 


254  ELSIE   D1NSMORE 

He  saw  it  all  at  a  glance,  and  with  a  pleased  smile, 
stooped  and  kissed  her  again,  saying,  "My  dear  little 
daughter  is  very  thoughtful  for  her  papa's  comfort/' 

Then  exchanging  his  warm  out-door  apparel  and 
heavy  boots  for  the  dressing-gown  and  slippers,  he 
seated  himself  in  the  chair  and  took  her  on  his  knee. 

"Well,  daughter,"  he  said,  passing  his  hand  caress 
ingly  over  her  curls,  "papa  has  brought  you  a  pres 
ent;  will  you  have  it  now,  or  shall  it  be  kept  for 
Christmas  ?" 

"Keep  it  for  Christmas,  papa,"  she  answered  gayly. 
"Christmas  is  almost  here,  and  besides,  I  don't  want 
to  look  at  anything  but  you  to-night." 

"Very  well,  look  at  me  as  much  as  you  like,"  was 
his  laughing  rejoinder.  "And  now  tell  me,  have  you 
been  a  good  girl  in  my  absence?" 

"As  good  as  I  ever  am,  I  believe,  papa.  I  tried 
very  hard ;  but  you  can  ask  Miss  Day." 

"No,  I  am  entirely  satisfied  with  your  report,  for 
I  know  my  little  daughter  is  quite  truthful." 

Elsie  colored  with  pleasure,  then  calling  to  mind 
the  time  when  he  had  for  a  moment  suspected  her  of 
falsehood,  she  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  dropping  her  head 
upon  his  breast. 

He  seemed  to  understand  her  thoughts,  for,  press- 
fog  his  lips  to  her  forehead,  he  said  gently  and  kind 
ly,  "I  think  I  shall  never  again  doubt  my  little  daugh* 
ter's  truth." 

She  looked  up  with  a  grateful  smile. 

"Miss  Day  has  gone  away  to  stay  until  after  New 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  255 

Year's  day,  papa,"  she  said,  "and  so  our  holidays 
have  begun." 

"Ah!  I  am  very  well  satisfied,"  said  he.  "I  think 
you  have  earned  a  holiday,  and  I  hope  you  will  enjoy 
it.  But  I  don't  know  that  I  shall  let  you  play  all  the 
time,"  he  added  with  a  smile;  "I  have  some  notion 
of  giving  you  a  lesson  now  and  then,  myself.'* 

"Dear  papa,  how  pleasant!"  she  exclaimed  delight 
edly  ;  "I  do  so  love  to  say  lessons  to  you." 

"Well,  then,  we  will  spend  an  hour  together  every 
morning.  But  are  you  not  to  have  some  company?" 

"Oh !  yes,  papa,  quite  a  house  full,"  she  said  with  a 
slight  sigh.  "The  Percys,  and  the  Howards,  and  all 
the  Carringtons,  and  some  others  too,  I  believe." 

"Why  do  you  sigh,  daughter?"  he  asked;  "do  you 
not  expect  to  enjoy  their  company?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  hope  so,"  she  answered,  rather  dubiously  °9 
"but  when  there  are  so  many,  and  they  stay  so  long, 
they  are  apt  to  disagree,  and  that,  you  know,  is  not 
pleasant.  I  am  sure  I  shall  enjoy  the  hour  with  you 
better  than  anything  else;  it  is  so  sweet  to  be  quite 
alone  with  my  own  darling  papa,"  and  the  little  arm 
stole  softly  round  his  neck  again,  and  the  rosy  lips 
touched  his  cheek. 

"Well,  when  are  the  little  plagues  coming?"  he 
asked,  returning  her  caress. 

"Some  of  them  to-morrow,  papa;  no,  Monday- 
to-morrow  is  Sabbath  day." 

"Shall  I  bring  in  de  trunks  now,  massa?"  asked 
Mr.  Dinsmore's  servant,  putting  his  head  in  at  the 
door. 


ELSIE  DINSMORE 

"Yes,  John,  certainly." 

"Why,  you  brought  back  a  new  one,  papa,  didn't 
you?"  asked  Elsie,  as  John  carried  in  one  she  was 
sure  she  had  never  seen  before,  and  in  obedience  to 
a  motion  of  her  father's  hand,  set  it  down  quite  near 
them. 

"Yes,  my  dear,  it  is  yours.  There,  John,  unlock 
it,"  tossing  him  the  key.  "And  now,  daughter,  get 
down  and  see  what  you  can  find  in  it  worth  hav- 

*-£." 

Elsie  needed  no  second  bidding,  but  in  an  instant 
was  on  her  knees  beside  the  trunk,  eager  to  examine 
its  contents. 

"Take  the  lid  off  the  band-box  first,  and  see  what 
is  there,"  said  her  father. 

"O  papa,  how  very  pretty!"  she  cried,  as  she  lifted 
out  a  beautiful  little  velvet  hat  adorned  with  a  couple 
of  ostrich  feathers. 

"I  am  very  glad  it  pleases  you,  my  darling,"  he 
said,  putting  it  on  her  head,  and  gazing  at  her  with 
•proud  delight  in  her  rare  beauty.  "There!  it  fits 
exactly,  and  is  very  becoming." 

Then  taking  it  off,  he  returned  it  to  the  box,  and 
bade  her  look  further. 

"I  am  reserving  the  present  for  Christmas,"  he 
said,  in  answer  to  her  inquiring  look. 

Elsie  turned  to  the  trunk  again. 

"Dear  papa,  how  good  you  are  to  me!"  she  said, 
looking  up  at  him  almost  with  tears  of  pleasure  in 
her  eyes,  as  she  lifted  out,  one  after  another,  a  num 
ber  of  costly  toys,  which  she  examined  with  excla- 


ELSIE    DINSMORE  257 

mations  of  delight,  and  then  several  handsome 
dresses,  some  of  the  finest,  softest  merino,  and  others 
of  thick  rich  silk,  all  ready  made  in  fashionable  style, 
and  doing  credit  to  his  taste  and  judgment;  and 
lastly  a  beautiful  velvet  pelisse,  trimmed  with  costly 
fur,  just  the  thing  to  wear  with  her  pretty  new  hat. 

He  laughed  and  patted  her  cheek. 

"We  must  have  these  dresses  tried  on,"  he  said, 
at  least  one  of  them;  for  as  they  were  all  cut  by  the 
same  pattern — one  of  your  old  dresses  which  I  took 
with  me — I  presume  they  will  all  fit  alike.  There, 
take  this  one  to  mammy,  and  tell  her  to  put  it  on 
you,  and  then  come  back  to  me." 

"Oh!  I  wondered  how  you  could  get  them  the 
right  size,  papa,"  Elsie  answered,  as  she  skipped 
gayly  out  of  the  room. 

She  was  back  again  in  a  very  few  moments,  ar 
rayed  in  the  pretty  silk  he  had  selected. 

"Ah!  it  seems  to  be  a  perfect  fit,"  said  he,  turn 
ing  her  round  and  round,  with  a  very  gratified  look. 

"Mammy  must  dress  you  to-morrow  in  one  of 
these  new  frocks,  and  your  pretty  hat  and  pelisse." 

Elsie  looked  troubled. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  thinking  of  them  in  church, 
papa,  if  I  wear  them  then  for  the  first  time." 

"Pooh !  nonsense !  what  harm  if  you  do  ?  This 
squeamishness,  Elsie,  is  the  one  thing  about  you  that 
displeases  me  very  much.  But  there!  don't  look  so 
distressed,  my  pet.  I  dare  say  you  will  get  over  it 


258  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

by-and-by,  and  be  all  I  wish ;  indeed  I  sometimes  think 
you  have  improved  a  little  already,  in  that  respect.' 

Oh !  what  a  pang  these  words  sent  to  her  heart !  was 
it  indeed  true  that  she  was  losing  her  tenderness  of 
;  conscience  ?  that  she  was  becoming  less  afraid  of  dis 
pleasing  and  dishonoring  her  Saviour  than  in  former 
days  ?    The  very  thought  was  anguish. 

Her  head  drooped  upon  her  bosom,  and  the  small 
white  hands  were  clasped  convulsively  together,  while 
a  bitter,  repenting  cry,  a  silent  earnest  prayer  for  par 
don  and  help  went  up  to  Him  whose  ear  is  ever  open 
to  the  cry  of  His  children. 

Her  father  looked  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"What  is  it,  darling?"  he  asked,  drawing  her  ten 
derly  toward  him,  and  pushing  back  the  curls  from 
her  face;  "why  do  you  look  so  pained?  what  did  I 
say  that  could  have  hurt  you  so?  I  did  not  mean 
to  be  harsh  and  severe,  for  it  was  a  very  trifling  fault." 

She  hid  her  face  on  his  shoulder  and  burst  into 
an  agony  of  tears. 

"It  was  not  that,  papa,  but — but " 

"But  what,  my  darling?  don't  be  afraid  to  tell  me," 
he  answered,  soothingly. 

"O  papa!  I— I  am  afraid  I  don't— love  Jesus— as 
much  as  I  did,"  she  faltered  out  between  her  sobs. 

"Ah !  that  is  it,  eh  ?  Well,  well,  you  needn't  cry  any 
more.  /  think  you  are  a  very  good  little  girl,  though 
rather  a  silly  one,  I  am  afraid,  and  quite  too  morbidly 
conscientious." 

He  took  her  on  his  knee  as  he  spoke,  wiped  away 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  259 

her  tears,  and  then  began  talking  in  a  lively  strain  of 
something  else. 

Elsie  listened,  and  answered  him  cheerfully,  but  all 
\he  evening  he  noticed  that  whenever  she  was  quiet, 
dn  tmusual  expression  of  sadness  would  steal  over  her 
face. 

"What  a  strange  child  she  is!"  he  said  to  himself, 
as  he  sat  musing  over  the  fire,  after  sending  her  to 
bed.  "I  cannot  understand  her;  it  is  very  odd  how 
often  I  wound,  when  I  intend  to  please  her." 

As  for  Elsie,  she  scarcely  thought  of  her  new  finery, 
so  troubled  was  her  tender  conscience,  so  pained  her 
little  heart  to  think  that  she  had  been  wandering  from 
her  dear  Saviour. 

But  Elsie  had  learned  that  "if  any  man  sin,  we  have 
an  advocate  with  the  Father,  Jesus  Christ  the 
righteous,"  and  to  Him  she  went  with  her  sin  and  sor 
row  ;  she  applied  anew  to  the  pardoning,  peace-speak 
ing  blood  of  Christ — that  "'blood  of  sprinkling  that 
speaketh  better  things  than  that  of  Abel;"  and  thus 
the  sting  of  conscience  was  taken  away  and  her  peace 
restored,  and  she  was  soon  resting  quietly  on  her  pil 
low,  for,  "so  He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

Even  her  father's  keen,  searching  glance,  when  she 
came  to  him  in  the  morning,  could  discover  no  trace  of 
sadness  in  her  face;  very  quiet  and  sober  it  was,  but 
entirely  peaceful  and  happy,  and  so  it  remained  all 
through  the  day.  Her  new  clothes  did  not  trouble  her  ; 
she  was  hardly  conscious  of  wearing  them,  and  quite 
able  to  give  her  usual  solemn  and  fixed  attention  to 
the  services  of  the  sanctuary. 


260  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"Where  are  you  going,  daughter?"  Mr.  Dinsmore 
asked,  as  Elsie  gently  withdrew  her  hand  from  his 
on  leaving  the  dining-room. 

"To  my  room,  papa,"  she  replied. 

"Come  with  me,"  he  said ;  "I  want  you." 

"What  do  you  want  me  for,  papa?"  she  asked,  as 
he  sat  down  and  took  her  on  his  knee. 

"What  for?  why  to  keep,  to  love,  and  to  look  at," 
he  said  laughing.  "I  have  been  away  from  my  little 
girl  so  long,  that  now  I  want  her  close  by  my  side,  or 
on  my  knee,  all  the  time.  Do  you  not  like  to  be 
with  me  ?" 

"Dearly  well,  my  own  darling  papa,"  she  answered, 
flinging  her  little  arms  around  his  neck,  and  laying  her 
head  on  his  breast. 

He  fondled  her,  and  chatted  with  her  for  some 
time,  then,  still  keeping  her  on  his  knee,  took  up  a 
book  and  began  to  read. 

Elsie  saw  with  pain  that  it  was  a  novel  and  longed 
to  beg  him  to  put  it  away,  and  spend  the  precious  hours 
of  the  holy  Sabbath  in  the  study  of  God's  word,  or 
some  of  the  lesser  helps  to  Zion's  pilgrims  which  the 
saints  of  our  own  or  other  ages  have  prepared.  But 
she  knew  that  it  would  be  quite  out  of  place  for  a  little 
child  like  her  to  attempt  to  counsel  or  reprove  her 
father;  and  that,  tenderly  as  he  loved  and  cherished 
her,  he  would  never  for  one  moment  allow  her  to  for 
get  their  relative  positions. 

At  length  she  ventured  to  ask  softly,  "Papa,  may  I 
go  to  my  own  room  now?" 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  261 

"What  for?"  he  asked;  "are  you  tired  of  my  com 
pany  ?" 

"No,  sir,  oh!  no;  but  I  want — "  she  hesitated  and 
hung  her  head  for  an  instant,  while  the  rich  color 
mounted  to  cheek  and  brow ;  then  raising  it  again,  she 
said  fearlessly,  "I  always  want  to  spend  a  little  while 
with  my  best  Friend  on  Sabbath  afternoon,  papa." 

He  looked  puzzled,  and  also  somewhat  displeased. 

"I  don't  understand  you,  Elsie,"  he  said ;  "you  surely 
can  have  no  better  friend  than  your  own  father;  and 
can  it  be  possible  that  you  love  any  one  else  better 
than  you  love  me  ?" 

Again  the  little  arms  were  round  his  neck,  and 
hugging  him  close  and  closer,  she  whispered,  "It  was 
Jesus  I  meant,  papa;  you  know  He  loves  me  even 
better  than  you  do,  and  I  must  love  Him  best  of  all; 
but  there  is  no  one  else  that  I  love  half  so  much  as  I 
love  you,  my  own  dear,  dear  precious  father." 

"Well,  you  may  go;  but  only  for  a  little  while, 
mind,"  he  answered,  giving  her  a  kiss,  and  setting  her 
down.  "Nay,"  he  added  hastily,  "stay  as  long  as  you 
like;  if  you  feel  it  a  punishment  to  be  kept  here  with 
me,  I  would  rather  do  without  you." 

"Oh !  no,  no,  papa,"  she  said  beseechingly,  and  with 
tears  in  her  eyes ;  "I  do  so  love  to  be  with  you.  Please 
don't  be  angry ;  please  let  me  come  back  soon." 

"No,  darling,  I  am  not  angry,"  he  answered,  smooth 
ing  her  hair  and  smiling  kindly  on  her;  come  back 
just  when  you  like,  and  the  sooner  the  better." 

Elsie  did  not  stay  away  very  long;  in  less  than  an 
hour  she  returned,  bringing  her  "Bible  *nd  "Pilgrin?v 
Progress"  with  he* 


'262  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

Her  father  welcomed  her  with  a  smile,  and  then 
turned  to  his  novel  again,  while  she  drew  a  stool  to  his 
side,  and,  sitting  down,  leaned  her  head  against  his 
knee,  and  read  until  the  short  winter  day  began  to 
close  in,  and  Mr.  Dinsmore,  whose  hand  had  been 
every  now  and  then  laid  caressingly  upon  her  curls, 
said,  'Tut  away  your  book  now,  daughter ;  it  is  grow 
ing  too  dark  for  you  to  read  without  straining  your 
eyes." 

"Please,  papa,  let  me  finish  the  paragraph  first ;  may 
I  ?"  she  asked. 

"No;  you  must  always  obey  the  instant  I  speak 
to  you." 

Elsie  rose  at  once,  and  without  another  word  laid 
her  books  upon  the  table;  then  coming  back,  claimed 
her  accustomed  place  upon  his  knee,  with  her  head 
resting  on  his  shoulder. 

He  put  his  arm  around  her,  and  they  sat  silently 
thus  for  some  moments.  At  length  Elsie  asked, 
"Papa,  did  you  ever  read  'Pilgrim's  Progress !'  " 

"Yes ;  a  good  while  ago,  when  I  was  quite  a  boy." 

"And  you  did  not  like  it,  papa?" 

"Yes,  very  much,  though  I  have  nearly  forgotten 
the  story  now.  Do  you  like  it?" 

"Very  much,  indeed,  papa ;  I  think  it  comes  next  to 
the  Bible." 

"Next  to  the  Bible,  eh?  well,  I  believe  you  are  the 
only  little  girl  of  my  acquaintance  who  thinks  that  the 
most  beautiful  and  interesting  book  in  the  world.  But, 
let  me  see,  what  is  this  'Pilgrim's  Progress'  about? 
some  foolish  story  of  a  man  with  a  great  load  on  his 
back;  is  it  not?" 


ELSIE    DINSMORE  263 

"Foolish!  papa;  oh!  I  am  sure  you  don't  mean  it; 
you  couldn't  think  it  foolish.  Ah!  I  know  by  your 
smile  that  you  are  only  saying  it  to  tease  me.  It  is  a 
beautiful  story,  papa,  about  Christian:  how  he  lived 
in  the  City  of  Destruction,  and  had  a  great  burden  on 
his  back,  which  he  tried  in  every  way  to  get  rid  of,  but 
all  in  vain,  until  he  came  to  the  Cross ;  but  then  it 
seemed  suddenly  to  loosen  of  itself,  and  dropped  from 
his  back,  and  rolled  away,  and  fell  into  the  sepulchre, 
where  it  could  not  be  seen  any  more." 

"Well,  and  is  not  that  a  foolish  story?  can  you  see 
any  sense  or  meaning  in  it?"  he  asked,  with  a  slight 
smile,  and  a  keen  glance  into  the  eager  little  face 
upturned  to  his. 

"Ah!  papa,  I  know  what  it  means,"  she  answered, 
in  a  half-sorrowful  tone.  "Christian,  with  the  load  on 
his  back,  is  a  person  who  has  been  convinced  of  sin  by 
God's  Holy  Spirit,  and  feels  his  sins  a  heavy  burden — 
too  heavy  for  him  to  bear ;  and  then  he  tries  to  get  rid 
of  them  by  leaving  off  his  wicked  ways,  and  by  doing 
good  deeds;  but  he  soon  finds  he  can't  get  rid  of  his 
load  that  way,  for  it  only  grows  heavier  and  heavier, 
until  at  last  he  gives  up  trying  to  save  himself,  and 
just  goes  to  the  cross  of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  the  moment 
he  looks  to  Jesus  and  trusts  in  Him,  his  load  of  sin  is 
all  gone." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  surprised ;  as  indeed  he  had  often 
been  at  Elsie's  knowledge  of  spiritual  things. 

"Who  told  you  all  that?"  he  asked. 

"I  read  it  in  the  Bible,  papa;  and  besides,  I  know, 
because  I  have  felt  it." 

He  did  not  speak  again   for  some  moments;  and 


264  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

then  he  said  very  gravely,  "I  am  afraid  you  read  too 
many  of  those  dull  books.  I  don't  want  you  to  read 
things  that  fill  you  with  sad  and  gloomy  thoughts,  and 
make  you  unhappy.  I  want  my  little  girl  to  be  merry 
and  happy  as  the  day  is  long." 

"Please  don't  forbid  me  to  read  them,  papa,"  she 
pleaded  with  a  look  of  apprehension,  "for  indeed  they 
don't  make  me  unhappy,  and  I  love  them  so  dearly." 

"You  need  not  be  alarmed.  I  shall  not  do  so  unless 
I  see  that  they  do  affect  your  spirits,"  he  answered  in 
a  reassuring  tone,  and  she  thanked  him  with  her  own 
bright,  sweet  smile. 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  asked  suddenly, 
"Papa,  may  I  say  some  verses  to  you?" 

"Some  time,"  he  said,  "but  not  now,  for  there  is  the 
tea-bell ;"  and  taking  her  hand,  he  led  her  down  to  the 
dining-room. 

They  went  to  the  drawing-room  after  tea,  but  did 
not  stay  long.  There  were  no  visitors,  and  it  was  very 
dull  and  quiet  there,  no  one  seeming  inclined  for  con 
versation.  Old  Mr.  Dinsmore  sat  nodding  in  his 
chair,  Louise  was  drumming  on  the  piano,  and  the  rest 
were  reading  or  sitting  listlessly,  saying  nothing,  and 
Elsie  and  her  papa  soon  slipped  away  to  their  old  seat 
by  his  dressing-room  fire. 

"Sing  something  for  me,  my  pet,  some  of  those 
little  hymns  I  often  hear  you  singing  to  yourself,"  he 
said,  as  he  took  her  on  his  knee;  and  Elsie  gladly 
obeyed. 

Some  of  the  pieces  she  sang  alone,  but  in  others 
which  were  familiar  to  him,  her  father  joined  his  deep 
bass  notes  to  her  sweet  treble,  at  which  she  was 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  265 

greatly  delighted.  Then  they  read  several  chapters 
of  the  Bible  together,  and  thus  the  evening  passed  so 
quickly  and  pleasantly  that  she  was  very  much  sur 
prised  when  her  papa,  taking  out  his  watch,  told  her 
it  was  her  bed-time. 

"O  papa !  it  has  been  such  a  nice,  nice  evening !"  she 
said,  as  she  bade  him  good-night;  "so  like  the  deaf 
old  times  I  used  to  have  with  Miss  Rose,  only " 

She  paused  and  colored  deeply. 

"Only  what,  darling?"  he  asked,  drawing  her 
caressingly  to  him. 

"Only,  papa,  if  you  would  pray  with  me,  like  she 
did,"  she  whispered,  winding  her  arms  about  his  neck, 
and  hiding  her  face  on  his  shoulder. 

"That  I  cannot  do,  my  pet,  I  have  never  learned 
how ;  and  so  I  fear  you  will  have  to  do  all  the  praying 
for  yourself  and  me  too,"  he  said,  with  a  vain  effort 
to  speak  lightly,  for  both  heart  and  conscience  were 
touched. 

The  only  reply  was  a  tightening  of  the  clasp  of  the 
little  arms  about  his  neck,  and  a  half-suppressed  sob; 
then  two  trembling  lips  touched  his,  a  warm  tear  fell 
on  his  cheek,  and  she  turned  away  and  ran  quickly 
from  the  room. 

Oh!  how  earnest  and  importunate  were  Elsie's 
pleadings  at  a  throne  of  grace  that  night,  that  herj 
"dear,  dear  papa  might  soon  be  taught  to  love  Jesus,; 
and  how  to  pray  to  Him."  Tears  fell  fast  while  she 
prayed,  but  she  rose  from  her  knees  feeling  a  joyful 
assurance  that  her  petitions  had  been  heard,  and  would 
be  granted  in  God's  own  good  time. 

She  had  hardly  laid  her  head  uoon  her  .pillow,  when 


266  ELSIE    DINSMORE 

her  father  came  in,  and  saying,  "I  have  come  to  sit 
beside  my  little  girl  till  she  falls  asleep,"  placed  him 
self  in  a  chair  close  by  her  side,  taking  her  hand  in 
his  and  holding  it,  as  she  loved  so  to  have  him  do. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,  papa,"  she  said,  her 
whole  face  lighting  up  with  pleased  surprise. 

"Are  you?"  he  answered  with  a  smile.  "I'm  afraid 
I  am  spoiling  you ;  but  I  can't  help  it  to-night.  I  think 
you  forget  your  wish  to  repeat  some  verses  to  me?" 

"Oh!  yes,  papa!"  she  said,  "but  may  I  say  thenv 
now?" 

He  nodded  assent,  and  she  went  on.  "They  ar? 
some  Miss  Rose  sent  me  in  one  of  her  letters.  She 
cut  them  out  of  a  newspaper,  she  said,  and  sent  them 
to  me  because  she  liked  them  so  much ;  and  I  too  think 
they  are  very  sweet.  The  piece  is  headed : 

"  THE  PILGRIM'S  WANTS.' 
"  'I  want  a  sweet  sense  of  Thy  pardoning  love, 

That  my  manifold  sins  are  forgiven ; 
That  Christ,  as  my  Advocate,  pleadeth  above, 
That  my  name  is  recorded  in  heaven. 

"  'I  want  every  moment  to  feel 

That  thy  Spirit  resides  in  my  heart — 
That  his  power  is  present  to  cleanse  and  to  heal, 
And  newness  of  life  to  impart. 

"  'I  want — oh !  I  want  to  attain 

Some  likeness,  my  Saviour,  to  thee ! 
That  longed  for  resemblance  once  more  to  regain, 
Thy  comeliness  put  upon  me. 

*  'I  want  to  be  marked  for  thine  own — 
Thy  seal  on  my  forehead  to  wear; 
To  receive  that  new  name  on  the  mystic  white  stone 
Which  none  but  thyself  can  declare- 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  267 

*  'I  want  so  in  thee  to  abide 

As  to  bring  forth  some  fruit  to  thy  praise; 
The  branch  which  thou  prunest,  though  feeble  and  dried, 
May  languish,  but  never  decays. 

"  'I  want  thine  own  hand  to  unbind 

Each  tie  to  terrestrial  things, 
Too  tenderly  cherished,  too  closely  entwined, 
Where  my  heart  so  tenaciously  clings. 

"  'I  want,  by  my  aspect  serene, 

My  actions  and  words,  to  declare 
That  my  treasure  is  placed  in  a  country  unseen, 
That  my  heart's  best  affections  are  there. 

"  'I  want  as  a  trav'ller  to  haste 

Straight  onward,  nor  pause  on  my  way; 
Nor  forethought  in  anxious  contrivance  to  waste 
On  the  tent  only  pitched  for  a  day. 

"  'I  want — and  this  sums  up  my  prayer — 

To  glorify  thee  till  I  die; 
Then  calmly  to  yield  up  my  soul  to  thy  care, 
And  breathe  out  in  faith  my  last  sigh.'  "  * 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment  after  she  had  repeated 
the  last  verse,  then  laying  his  hand  softly  on  her  head, 
and  looking  searchingly  into  her  eyes,  he  asked,  "And 
does  my  little  one  really  wish  all  that  those  words 
express?" 

"Yes,  papa,  for  myself  and  for  you  too,"  she  an 
swered.  "O  papa !  I  do  want  to  be  all  that  Jesus  would 
have  me!  just  like  Him;  so  like  Him  that  everybody 

*  These  beautiful  words  are  not  mine,  nor  do  I  know  either 
the  name  of  the  author  or  where  they  were  originally  pub 
lished. 


268  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

who  knows  me  will  see  the  likeness  and  know  that  I 
belong  to  Him." 

"Nay,  you  belong  to  me,"  he  said,  leaning  over  her 
and  patting  her  cheek.  "Hush!  not  a  syllable  from 
your  lips.  I  will  have  no  gainsaying  of  my  words," 
he  added,  with  a  mixture  of  authority  and  playfulness, 
as  she  seemed  about  to  reply.  "Now  shut  your  eyes 
and  go  to  sleep ;  I  will  have  no  more  talking  to-night." 

She  obeyed  at  once;  the  white  vds  gently  closed 
over  the  sweet  eyes,  the  long,  dark  lashes  rested 
quietly  on  the  fair,  round  cheek,  and  soon  her  soft 
regular  breathing  told  that  she  had  passed  into  the 
land  of  dreams. 

Her  father  sat.  still  holding  the  little  hand,  and  still 
gazing  tenderly  upon  the  sweet  young  face,  till,  some 
thing  in  its  expression  reminding  him  of  words  she 
had  just  repeated, 

"I  want  to  be  marked  for  thine  own — 
Thy  seal  on  my  forehead  to  wear," 

he  laid  it  gently  down,  rose,  and  bent  over  her  with  a 
troubled  look. 

"Ah,  my  darling,  that  prayer  is  granted  already!" 
he  murmured;  "for,  ah  me!  you  seem  almost  too  good 
and  pure  for  earth.  But  oh,  God  forbid  that  you 
should  be  taken  from  me  to  that  place  where  I  can  see 
that  your  heart  is  even  now.  How  desolate  should  I 
be!"  and  he  turned  away  with  a  shiver  and  a  heavy 
si$rh,  and  hastily  quitted  the  room. 


CHAPTER  THIRTEENTH 

"An  angel  face !  its  sunny  wealth  of  hair, 
In  radiant  ripples  bathed  the  graceful  throat 
And  dimpled  shoulders."  — MRS.  OSGOOD. 

THE  cold  gray  light  of  a  winter  morning  was  steal 
ing  in  through  the  half-closed  blinds  as  Elsie  awoke, 
and  started  up  in  bed,  with  the  thought  that  this  was 
the  day  on  which  several  of  her  young  guests  were 
expected,  and  that  her  papa  had  promised  her  a  walk 
with  him  before  breakfast,  if  she  were  ready  in  time, 

Aunt  Chloe  had  already  risen,  and  a  bright  fire  wai 
blazing  and  crackling  on  the  hearth,  which  she  was 
carefully  sweeping  up. 

"Good  morning,  mammy,"  said  the  little  girl.  "Are 
you  ready  to  dress  me  now?" 

"What,  you  'wake,  darlin'  ?"  cried  the  fond  old  crea 
ture,  turning  quickly  round  at  the  sound  of  her  nurs 
ling's  voice.  "Better  lie  still,  honey,  till  de  room  gets 
warm." 

"I'll  wait  a  little  while,  mammy,"  Elsie  said,  lying 
down  again,  "but  I  must  get  up  soon;  for  I  wouldn't 
miss  my  walk  with  papa  for  a  great  deal.  Please 
throw  the  shutters  wide  open,  and  let  the  daylight  in. 
I'm  so  glad  it  has  come." 

"Why,  my  bressed  lamb,  you  didn't  lie  awake  lookin' 
for  de  mornin',  did  you  ?  You  ain't  sick,  nor  sufferin' 
any  way?"  exclaimed  Chloe,  in  a  tone  of  mingled  con 
cern  and  inquiry,  as  she  hastily  set  down  her  broom, 
and  came  toward  the  bed,  with  a  look  of  loving  anxiety 
on  her  dark  face. 


270  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"Oh,  no,  mammy!  I  slept  nicely,  and  feel  as  well 
as  can  be,"  replied  the  little  girl;  "but  I  am  glad  to 
see  this  new  day,  because  I  hope  it  is  going  to  be  a 
very  happy  one.  Carry  Howard,  and  a  good  many  of 
my  little  friends  are  coming,  you  know,  and  I  think 
we  will  have  a  very  pleasant  time  together." 

"Your  ole  mammy  hopes  you  will,  darlin'/'  replied 
Chloe,  heartily;  "an'  I'se  glad  'nough  to  see  you 
lookin'  so  bright  an'  well;  but  jes  you  lie  still  till  it 
gets  warm  here.  I'll  open  de  shutters,  an'  fotch  some 
more  wood  for  de  fire,  an'  clar  up  de  room,  an'  by  dat 
time  I  reckon  you  can  get  up." 

Elsie  waited  patiently  till  Chloe  pronounced  the 
room  warm  enough,  then  sprang  up  with  an  eager 
haste,  asking  to  be  dressed  as  quickly  as  possible,  that 
she  might  go  to  her  papa. 

"Don't  you  go  for  to  worry  yourself,  darlin' ;  dere's 
plenty  ob  time,"  said  Chloe,  beginning  her  work  with 
all  speed,  however ;  "de  mistress  had  ordered  de  break 
fast  at  nine,  dese  holiday  times,  to  let  de  ladies  an* 
gen'lemen  take  a  mornin'  nap  if  dey  likes  it." 

"Oh,  yes,  mammy!  and  that  reminds  me  that  papa 
said  I  must  eat  a  cracker  or  something  before  I  take 
my  walk,  because  he  thinks  it  isn't  good  for  people  to 
exercise  much  on  an  entirely  empty  stomach,"  said 
Elsie.  "Will  you  get  me  one  when  you  have  done 
my  curls?" 

"Yes,  honey,  dere's  a  paper  full  in  de  drawer  yon 
der,"  replied  Chloe,  "an'  I  reckon  you  better  eat  two 
or  three,  or  you'll  be  mighty  hungry  'fore  you  gits  your 
breakfast." 

It  still  wanted  a  few  minutes  of  eight  o'clock  whe.n 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  271 

Elsie's  gentle  rap  was  heard  at  her  papa's  dressing- 
room  door.  He  opened  it,  and  stooping  to  give  her  a 
good-morning  kiss,  said,  with  a  pleased  smile,  "How 
bright  and  v/ell  my  darling  looks!  Had  you  a  good 
night's  rest?" 

"Oh,  yes,  papa!  I  never  waked  once  till  it  began 
to  be  light,"  she  replied;  "and  now  I'm  all  ready  for 
our  walk." 

"In  good  season,  too,"  he  said.  "Well,  we  will  start 
presently;  but  take  off  your  hat  and  come  and  sit  on 
my  knee  a  little  while  first ;  breakfast  will  be  late  this 
morning,  and  we  need  not  hurry.  Did  you  get  some 
thing  to  eat?"  he  asked,  as  he  seated  himself  by  the 
fire  and  drew  her  to  his  side. 

"Yes,  papa,  I  ate  a  cracker,  and  I  think  I  will  not 
get  very  hungry  before  nine  o'clock;  arid  I'm  very 
glad  we  have  so  much  time  for  our  walk,"  she  replied, 
as  she  took  her  place  on  his  knee.  "Shall  we  not  start 
soon?" 

"Presently,"  he  said,  stroking  her  hair ;  "but  it  will 
not  hurt  you  to  get  well  warmed  first,  for  it  is  a  sharp 
morning." 

"You  are  very  careful  of  me,  dear  papa,"  she  said, 
laying  her  head  on  his  breast,  "and  oh !  it  is  so  nice  to 
have  a  papa  to  love  me  and  take  care  of  me." 

"And  it  is  so  nice  to  have  a  dear  little  daughter  to 
love  and  to  take  care  of,"  he  answered,  pressing  her 
closer  to  him. 

The  house  was  still  very  quiet,  no  one  seeming-  to 
be  astir  but  the  servants,  as  Mr.  Dinsmore  and  Elsie 
went  down  the  stairs  and  passed  out  through  the  hall. 

':'O  papa!  it  is  going  to  be  such  a  nice  day.  and  I  feel 


272  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

so  happy!"  Elsie  gayly  exclaimed,  as  they  started  down 
the  avenue. 

"Do  you,  daughter  ?"  he  said,  regarding  her  with  an 
expression  of  intense  yearning  affection;  "I  wish  I 
could  make  you  always  as  gay  and  happy  as  you  are 
at  this  moment.  But  alas!  it  cannot  be,  my  darling," 
he  added  with  a  sigh. 

"I  know  that,  papa,"  she  said  with  sudden  gravity, 
"  'for  man  that  is  born  of  woman  is  of  few  days,  and 
full  of  trouble/  the  Bible  says;  but  I  don't  feel  fright 
ened  at  that,  because  it  tells  me,  besides,  that  Jesus 
loves  me,  oh,  so  dearly!  and  will  never  leave  nor  for 
sake  me ;  and  that  He  has  all  power  in  heaven  and  in 
earth,  and  will  never  let  anything  happen  to  me  but 
what  shall  do  me  good.  O  papa,  it  is  such  a  happy 
thing  to  have  the  dear  Lord  Jesus  for  your  friend !" 

"It  is  strange  how  everything  seems  to  lead  your 
thoughts  to  Him,"  he  said,  giving  her  a  wondering 
look. 

"Yes,  papa,  it  is  because  I  love  Him  so,"  she  an 
swered,  simply;  and  the  father  sighed  as  the  thought 
arose,  "Better  than  she  loves  me,  even  as  she  told  me 
herself.  Ah !  I  would  I  could  be  all — everything  to 
her,  as  she  is  fast  becoming  to  me.  I  cannot  feel  satis 
fied,  and  yet  I  believe  few  daughters  love  their  fathers 
as  well  as  she  loves  me ;"  and  fondly  pressing  the  little 
hand  he  held,  he  looked  down  upon  her  with  beaming 
eyes. 

She  raised  hers  to  his  face  with  an  expression  of 
confiding  affection ;  and,  as  though  she  had  read  his 
thoughts:  "Yes,  papa,"  she  said,  "I  love  you  dearly, 
dearly,  too;  better  than  all  the  world  besides." 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  273 

Breakfast — always  a  plentiful  and  inviting  meal  at 
Roselands — was  already  upon  the  table  when  they  re 
turned,  and  they  brought  to  it  appetites  sufficiently 
keen  to  make  it  very  enjoyable. 

Elsie  spent  the  first  hour '  after  breakfast  at  the 
piano,  practising,  and  the  second  in  her  papa's  dress 
ing-room,  studying  and  reciting  to  him ;  then  they  took 
a  long  ride  on  horseback,  and  when  they  returned  she 
found  that  quite  a  number  of  the  expected  guests  had 
already  arrived. 

Among  them  was  Caroline  Howard,  a  favorite  friend 
of  Elsie's ;  a  pretty,  sweet-tempered  little  girl,  about  a 
year  older  than  herself. 

Caroline  had  been  away  paying  a  long  visit  to  some 
friends  in  the  North,  and  so  the  two  little  girls  had  not 
met  for  nearly  a  year,  and  of  course  they  had  a  great 
deal  to  say  to  each  other. 

They  chatted  a  few  moments  in  the  drawing-room, 
and  then  Elsie  carried  her  friend  off  with  her  to  her 
own  room,  that  they  might  go  on  with  their  talk  while 
she  was  getting  dressed  for  dinner.  Caroline  had 
much  to  tell  of  her  Northern  relatives,  and  of  all  she 
had  seen  and  heard,  and  Elsie  of  her  new-found  par- 
ent,  and  her  happiness  in  being  so  loved  and  cared  for ; 
and  so  the  little  tongues  ran  very  fast,  neither  of  them 
feeling  Chloe's  presence  any  restraint.  But  she  soon 
completed  her  task,  and  went  out,  leaving  the  two 
sitting  on  the  sofa  together,  laughing  and  talking  mer 
rily  while  awaiting  the  summons  to  dinner,  which  they 
were  to  take  that  day  along  with  their  elders. 

"How  pretty  your  hair  is,  Elsie/'  said  Caroline, 
winding  the  glossy  ringlets  around  her  finger.  "I  wish 


274  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

you'd  give  me  one  of  these  curls.  I  want  to  get  a 
bracelet  made  for  mamma,  and  she  thinks  so  much  of 
you,  and  your  hair  is  such  a  lovely  color,  that  I  am 
sure  she  would  be  delighted  with  one  made  of  it." 

"A  Christmas  gift  is  it  to  be?"  asked  Elsie;  "but 
how  will  you  get  it  done  in  time?  for  you  know  day 
after  to-morrow  is  Christmas." 

"Yes,  I  know;  but  if  I  could  get  into  the  city  this 
afternoon,  I  think  I  might  get  them  to  promise  it  by 
to-morrow  night." 

"Well,  you  shall  have  the  curl,  at  any  rate,  if  you 
will  just  take  the  scissors  and  help  yourself,  and  poor 
mammy  will  have  the  fewer  to  curl  the  next  time," 
Elsie  answered,  laughingly.  "But  mind,"  she  added, 
as  Caroline  prepared  to  avail  herself  of  the  permission, 
"that  you  take  it  where  it  will  not  be  missed." 

"Of  course  I  will;  I  don't  want  to  spoil  your  beauty, 
though  you  are  so  much  prettier  than  I,"  was  Caro 
line's  laughing  rejoinder.  "There,"  she  cried,  holding 
up  the  severed  ringlet,  "isn't  it  a  beauty?  but  don't 
look  scared,  it  will  never  be  missed  among  so  many ;  I 
don't  even  miss  it  myself,  although  I  know  it  is  gone." 

"Well,"  Elsie  said,  shaking  back  her  curls,  "suppose 
we  go  down  to  the  drawing-room  now,  and  I  will  ask 
papa  to  take.  ns  to  the  city  this  afternoon;  or,  if  he  is 
too  busy  *o  go  himself,  to  let  Pomp  or  Ajax  drive 
us  in." 

"I  think  it  would  be  better  fun  to  go  alone,  Elsie 

don't  you?"  asked  Caroline,  with  some  hesitation; 
adding  quickly:  "Don't  be  vexed,  but  I  must  confess 
*  am  more  than  half  afraid  of  your  father." 

"Oh!  you  wouldn't  be,  Carry,  if  you  knew  him," 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  275 

Elsie  answered,  in  her  eager  way;  "I  was  a  little  my 
self,  at  first,  but  now  I  love  him  so  dearly,  I  never  want 
to  go  anywhere  without  him." 

They  found  Mr.  Dinsmore  in  the  drawing-room, 
where  most  of  the  guests  and  the  older  members  of 
the  family  were  assembled.  He  was  conversing  with 
a  strange  gentleman,  and  his  little  girl  stood  quietly 
at  his  side,  patiently  waiting  until  he  should  be  ready 
to  give  her  his  attention.  She  had  to  wait  some  mo 
ments,  for  the  gentlemen  were  discussing  some  politi 
cal  question,  and  were  too  much  engaged  to  notice  her. 

But  at  length  her  father  put  his  arm  around  her, 
and  with  a  kind  smile  asked,  "What  is  it,  daughter?" 

"Carry  and  I  want  to  go  to  the  city,  this  afternoon ; 
won't  you  take  us,  papa?" 

"I  wish  I  could,  my  dear,  but  I  have  an  engagement, 
which  makes  it  quite  impossible." 

"Ah,  I'm  so  sorry !  but  then,  papa,  we  may  have  one 
of  the  carriages,  and  Pomp  or  Ajax  to  drive  us,  may 
we  not?" 

"No,  daughter ;  I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  but  I 
am  afraid  you  are  too  young  to  be  trusted  on  such  an 
expedition  with  only  a  servant.  You  must  wait  until, 
to-morrow,  when  I  can  take  you  myself." 

"But,  papa,  we  want  to  go  to-day.  Oh !  please  do 
say  yes ;  we  want  to  go  so  very  much,  and  I'm  sure  we 
could  do  very  nicely  by  ourselves." 

Her  arm  was  around  his  neck,  and  both  tone  and 
look  were  very  coaxing. 

"My  little  daughter  forgets  that  when  papa  says  no, 
<he  is  never  to  ask  again." 

Elsie  blushed  and  hung  her  head.    His  manner  was 


276  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

quite  too  grave  and  decided  for  her  to  venture  another 
word. 

"What  is  the  matter?  what  does  Elsie  want?"  asked 
Adelaide,  who  was  standing  near,  and  had  overheard 
enough  to  have  some  idea  of  the  trouble. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  explained,  and  Adelaide  at  once  of 
fered  to  take  charge  of  the  little  girls,  saying  that  she 
intended  shopping  a  little  in  the  city  herself  that  very 
afternoon. 

"Thank  you,"  said  her  brother,  looking  very  much 
pleased;  "that  obviates  the  difficulty  entirely.  Elsie, 
you  may  go,  if  Mrs.  Howard  gives  Caroline  permis 
sion." 

"Thank  you,  dear  papa,  thank  you  so  very  much," 
she  answered  gratefully,  and  then  ran  away  to  tell 
Carry  of  her  success,  and  secure  Mrs.  Howard's  per 
mission,  which  was  easily  obtained. 

Elsie  had  intended  buying  some  little  present  for 
each  of  the  house-servants,  and  had  taken  a  great  deal 
of  pleasure  in  making  out  a  list  of  such  articles  as  she 
thought  would  be  suitable;  but,  on  examining  her 
purse,  she  found  to  her  dismay  that  che  had  already 
spent  so  much  on  the  miniature,  and  various  gifts  in 
tended  for  other  members  of  the  family,  that  there 
was  very  little  left;  and  it  was  with  a  very  sober, 
almost  sorrowful  face,  that  she  came  down  to  take  her 
place  in  the  carriage ;  it  brightened  instantly,  though, 
as  she  caught  sight  of  her  father  waiting  to  see  her 
off. 

"All  ready,  my  darling?"  he  said,  holding  out  his 
hand ;  "I  think  you  will  have  a  pleasant  ride." 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  277 

"Ah!  yes,  if  you  were  only  going  too,  papa,"  she 
answered  regretfully. 

"Quite  impossible,  my  pet ;  but  here  is  something  to 
help  you  in  your  shopping;  use  it  wisely;"  and  he  put 
a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece  in  her  hand. 

"Oh,  thank  you,  papa !  how  good  and  kind  you  are 
to  me !"  she  exclaimed,  her  whole  face  lighting  up  with 
pleasure ;  "now  I  can  buy  some  things  I  wanted  to  get 
for  mammy  and  the  rest.  But  how  could  you  know  I 
wanted  more  money?" 

He  only  smiled,  lifted  her  up  in  his  arms,  and  kissed 
her  fondly ;  then,  placing  her  in  the  carriage,  said  to 
the  coachman,  "Drive  carefully,  Ajax;  you  are  carry 
ing  my  greatest  treasure." 

"Nebber  fear,  marster;  dese  ole  horses  nebber  tink 
ob  running  away,"  replied  the  negro,  with  a  bow  and  a 
grin,  as  he  touched  his  horses  with  the  whip,  and 
drove  off. 

It  was  growing  quite  dark  when  the  carriage  again 
drove  up  the  avenue ;  and  Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore,  who 
was  beginning  to  feel  a  little  anxious,  came  out  to  re 
ceive  them,  and  ask  what  had  detained  them  so  long. 

"Long!"  said  Adelaide,  in  a  tone  of  surprise,  "you 
gentlemen  really  have  no  idea  what  an  undertaking  it 
is  to  shop.  Why,  I  thought  we  got  through  in  a  won 
derfully  short  time." 

"O  papa,  I  have  bought  such  quantities  of  nice 
things,"  cried  Elsie,  springing  into  his  arms. 

"Such  as  tobacco  pipes,  red  flannel,  et  cetera,"  re 
marked  Adelaide,  laughing. 

"Indeed,  Miss  Adelaide!"  exclaimed  Carry,  some 
what  indignantly,  "you  forget  the~ — -'* 


278  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

But  Elsie's  little  hand  was  suddenly  placed  over  her 
mouth,  and  Carry  laughed  pleasantly,  saying,  "Ah!  I 
forgot,  I  mustn't  tell." 

"Papa,  papa,"  cried  Elsie,  catching  hold  of  his  hand, 
"do  come  with  me  to  my  room,  and  let  me  show  you 
my  purchases." 

"I  will,  darling,"  he  answered,  pinching  her  cheek. 
''Here,  Bill" — to  a  servant — "carry  these  bundles  to 
Miss  Elsie's  room." 

Then,  picking  her  up,  he  tossed  her  over  his  shoul 
der,  and  carried  her  up-stairs  as  easily  as  though  she 
had  been  a  baby,  she  clinging  to  him  and  laughing 
merrily. 

"Why,  papa,  how  strong  you  are,"  she  said,  as  he 
set  her  down.  "I  believe  you  can  carry  me  as  easily 
as  I  can  my  doll." 

"To  be  sure ;  you  are  my  doll,"  said  he,  "and  a  very 
light  burden  for  a  man  of  my  size  and  strength.  But 
here  come  the  bundles!  what  a  number!  no  wonder 
you  were  late  in  getting  home." 

"Oh!  yes,  papa  see!  I  want  to  show  you!"  and 
catching  up  one  of  them,  she  hastily  tore  it  open, 
displaying  a  very  gay  handkerchief.  "This  is  a  turban 
for  Aunt  Phillis ;  and  this  is  a  pound  of  tobacco  for  old 
Uncle  Jack,  and  a  nice  pipe,  too.  Look,  mammy !  won't 
he  be  pleased?  And  here's  some  flannel  for  poor  old 
Aunt  Dinah,  who  has  the  rheumatism ;  and  that — oh  ! 
no,  no,  mammy !  don't  you  open  that !  It's  a  nice  shawl 
for  her,  papa,"  she  whispered  in  his  ear. 

"Ah!"  he  said,  smiling;  "and  which  is  my  present? 
You  had  better  point  it  out,  lest  I  should  stumble  upon 
it  and  learn  the  secret  too  soon." 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  279 

"There  is  none  here  for  you,  sir,"  she  replied,  look 
ing  up  into  his  face  with  an  arch  smile.  "I  would  give 
you  the  bundle  you  carried  up-stairs,  just  now,  but  I'm 
afraid  you  would  say  that  was  not  mine  to  give,  be 
cause  it  belongs  to  you  already." 

"Indeed  it  does,  and  I  feel  richer  in  that  possession 
than  all  the  gold  of  California  could  make  me,"  he  said, 
pressing  her  to  his  heart. 

She  looked  surpassingly  lovely  at  that  moment,  her 
cheeks  burning,  and  her  eyes  sparkling  with  excite 
ment;  the  dark,  fur-trimmed  pelisse,  and  the  velvet 
hat  and  plumes,  setting  off  to  advantage  the  whiteness 
of  her  pure  complexion  and  the  glossy  ringlets  falling 
in  rich  masses  on  her  shoulders. 

"My  own  papa!  I'm  so  glad  I  do  belong  to  you," 
she  said,  throwing  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and 
laying  her  cheek  to  his  for  an  instant.  Then  springing 
away,  she  added:  "But  I  must  show  you  the  rest  of 
the  things ;  there  are  a  good  many  more." 

And  she  went  on  opening  bundle  after  bundle,  dis 
playing  their  contents,  and  telling  him  for  whom  she 
intended  them,  until  at  last  they  had  all  been  examined, 
and  then  she  said,  a  little  wearily,  "Now,  mammy, 
please  put  them  all  away  until  to-morrow.  But  first 
take  off  my  things  and  get  me  ready  to  go  down 
stairs." 

"No,  daughter,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  said  in  a  gentle  but 
firm  tone ;  "you  are  not  ready  to  have  them  put  away 
until  the  price  of  each  has  been  set  down  in  your 
book." 

"Oh!  papa,"  she  pleaded,  "won't  to-morrow  do? 
I'm  tired  now,  and  isn't  it  almost  tea-time  ?" 


280  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"No ;  never  put  off  till  to-morrow  what  may  as  well 
be  done  to-day.  There  is  nearly  an  hour  yet  before  tea, 
and  I  do  not  think  it  need  fatigue  you  much." 

Elsie's  face  clouded,  and  the  slightest  approach  to  a 
pout  might  have  been  perceived. 

"I  hope  my  little  girl  is  not  going  to  be  naughty," 
he  said,  very  gravely. 

Her  face  brightened  in  an  instant.  "No,  papa,"  she 
answered  cheerfully,  "I  will  be  good,  and  do  whatever 
you  bid  me." 

"That  is  my  own  darling,"  said  he,  "and  I  will  help 
you,  and  it  will  not  take  long." 

He  opened  her  writing-desk  as  he  spoke,  and  took 
out  her  account-book. 

"Oh!  papa,"  she  cried  in  a  startled  tone,  springing 
forward  and  taking  hold  of  his  hand,  "please,  please 
don't  look!  you  know  you  said  I  need  not  show  you 
until  after  Christmas." 

"No,  I  will  not,"  he  replied,  smiling  at  her  eager 
ness  ;  "you  shall  put  down  the  items  in  the  book,  while 
I  write  the  labels,  and  Aunt  Chloe  pins  them  on.  Will 
that  do?" 

"Oh!  that's  a  nice  plan,  papa,"  she  said  gayly,  as 
she  threw  off  her  hat  and  pelisse,  and  seating  herself 
before  the  desk,  took  out  her  pen  and  ink. 

Chloe  put  the  hat  and  pelisse  carefully  away, 
brought  a  comb  and  brush,  and  smoothed  her  nurs 
ling's  hair,  and  then  began  her  share  of  the  business 
on  hand. 

Half  an  hour's  work  finished  it  all,  and  Elsie  wiped 
her  pen,  and  laid  it  away,  saying  joyously,  "Oh!  I'm 
so  glad  it  is  all  done/' 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  281 

"Papa  knew  best,  after  all,  did  he  not?"  asked  her 
father,  drawing  her  to  him,  and  patting  her  cheek. 

"Yes,  papa,"  she  said  softly;  "you  always  know 
best,  and  I  am  very  sorry  I  was  naughty." 

He  answered  with  a  kiss,  and,  taking  her  hand,  led 
her  down  to  the  drawing-room. 

After  tea  the  young  people  adjourned  to  the  nursery, 
where  they  amused  themselves  with  a  variety  of  inno 
cent  games.  Quite  early  in  the  evening,  and  greatly 
to  Elsie's  delight,  her  father  joined  them;  and,  though 
some  of  the  young  strangers  were  at  first  rather  shy 
of  him,  they  soon  found  that  he  could  enter  heartily 
into  their  sports,  and  before  the  time  came  to  separate 
for  the  night,  he  had  made  himself  very  popular  with 
nearly  all. 

Time  flew  fast,  and  Elsie  was  very  much  surprised 
when  the  clock  struck  eight.  Half -past  was  her  bed 
time  ;  and,  as  she  now  and  then  glanced  up  at  the  dial- 
plate,  she  thought  the  hands  had  never  moved  so  fast. 
As  it  struck  the  half  hour  she  drew  near  her  father's 
side. 

"Papa,"  she  asked,  "is  the  clock  right?" 

"Yes,  my  dear,  it  is,"  he  replied,  comparing  it  with 
his  watch. 

"And  must  I  go  to  bed  now?"  she  asked,  half 
hoping  for  permission  to  stay  up  a  little  longer. 

"Yes,  daughter ;  keep  to  rules." 

Elsie  looked  disappointed,  and  several  little  voices 
urged,  "Oh,  do  let  her  stay  up  another  hour,  or  at 
least  till  nine  o'clock." 

"No ;  I  cannot  often  allow  a  departure  from  rules," 
be  said  kindly,  but  firmly ;  "and  to-morroW.  night  Elsie 


282  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

will  find  it  harder  to  go  to  bed  in  season  than  to-night. 
Bid  your  little  friends  good-night,  my  dear,  and  go 
sit  once." 

Elsie  obeyed,  readily  and  cheer  fully.  "You,  too, 
papa,"  she  said,  coming  to  him  last. 

"No,  darling,"  he  answered,  laying  his  hand  caress 
ingly  on  her  head,  and  smiling  approvingly  on  her; 
"I  will  come  for  my  good-night  kiss  before  you  are 
asleep." 

Elsie  looked  very  glad,  and  went  away  feeling  her 
self  the  happiest  little  girl  in  the  land,  in  spite  of  the 
annoyance  of  being  forced  to  leave  the  merry  group 
in  the  nursery.  She  was  just  ready  for  bed  when  her 
papa  came  in,  and,  taking  her  in  his  arms,  folded  her 
to  his  heart,  saying,  "My  own  darling!  my  good, 
obedient  little  daughter !" 

"Dear  papa,  I  love  you  so  much !"  she  replied,  twin 
ing  her  arms  around  his  neck,  "I  love  you  all  the  bet 
ter  for  never  letting  me  have  my  own  way,  but  always 
making  me  obey  and  keep  to  rules." 

"I  don't  doubt  it,  daughter,"  he  said,  "for  I  have 
often  noticed  that  spoiled,  petted  children,  usually 
have  very  little  love  for  their  parents,  or  indeed  for 
any  one  but  themselves.  But  I  must  put  you  in  your 
bed,  or  you  will  be  in  danger  of  taking  cold." 

He  laid  her  down,  tucked  the  clothes  snugly  about 
her,  and  pressing  one  more  kiss  on  the  round,  rosy 
cheek,  left  her  to  her  slumbers. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEENTH 

"You  play  the  spaniel, 

think  with  wagging  of  your  tongue  to  win  me/* 
—SHAKESPEARE'S  Henry  Eighth* 

"These  delights,  if  thou  canst  give, 
Mirth,  with  thee  I  mean  to  live." 

—MILTON'S  L 'Allegro. 

THE  young  party  at  Roselandr  had  now  grown  io 
large — several  additions  having  been  made  to  it  on 
Mor?  lay  afternoon  and  evening — that  a  separate  table 
Was  ordered  to  be  spread  for  them  in  the  nursery, 
Where  they  took  their  meals  together;  Mrs.  Brown, 
the  housekeeper,  taking  the  head  of  the  table,  for  the 
double  purpose  of  keeping  them  in  order,  and  seeing 
that  their  wants  were  well  supplied. 

Elsie  came  in  to  breakfast,  from  a  brisk  walk  with 
her  papa,  looking  fresh  and  rosy,  and  bright  as  the 
morning;  quite  different  from  some  of  the  little  guests, 
who  had  been  up  far  beyond  their  usual  hours  the 
night  before,  and,  having  just  left  their  beds,  had  come 
down  pale  and  languid  in  looks,  and  in  some  instances 
showing  peevish  and  fretful  tempers,  very  trying  to 
the  patience  of  their  attendants. 

"O  Elsie!"  exclaimed  Carry  Howard,  as  the  little 
girl  took  her  place  at  the  table,  "we  were  all  so  sorry 
that  you  had  to  leave  us  so  soon  last  night ;  we  had  lots 
of  fun  after  you  left.  I  think  your  papa  might  have 
let  you  stay  up  a  little  longer ;  but  he  has  promised  that 

283 


284  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

to-night — as  we  are  to  have  the  Christmas-tree,  and 
ever  so  much  will  be  going  on — you  shall  stay  up  till 
half-past  nine,  if  you  like.  Aren't  you  glad?  I'm 
sure  I  am." 

"Yes,  papa  is  very  kind,  and  I  know  I  feel  much 
better  for  going  to  bed  early  last  night,"  said  Elsie, 
cheerfully. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  remarked  Mrs.  Brown,  "late  hours 
and  rich  food  are  very  bad  for  little  folks,  and  I  notice 
that  Miss  Elsie  has  grown  a  deal  stronger  and  health 
ier-looking  since  her  papa  came  home;  he  takes  such 
good  care  of  her." 

"Indeed  he  does,"  said  Elsie  heartily,  thanking  Mrs. 
Brown  with  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles. 

"What  are  we  going  to  do  to-day,  Elsie?"  asked 
Caroline. 

"Whatever  you  all  prefer,"  said  Elsie.  "If  you  like 
I  will  practice  that  duet  with  you  the  first  hour  after 
breakfast,  or  do  anything  else  you  wish ;  but  the  second 
hour  I  must  spend  with  papa,  and  after  that  I  have 
nothing  to  do  but  entertain  my  company  all  day." 

"Do  you  do  lessons  in  holidays  ?"  asked  Mary  Leslie, 
a  merry,  fun-loving  child,  about  Elsie's  own  age,  who 
considered  lessons  an  intolerable  bore,  and  had  some 
vague  idea  that  they  must  have  been  invented  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  tormenting  children.  Her  blue  eyes 
opened  wide  with  astonishment  when  Elsie  quietly  re 
plied  that  her  papa  had  kindly  arranged  to  give  her  an 
hour  every  morning,  because  he  knew  it  would  be  so 
much  pleasanter  for  her  than  spending  the  whole  day 
in  play. 

Elsie  did  keenly  enjoy  that  quiet  hour  spent  in  study- 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  285 

ing  and  reciting  to  her  father,  sitting  on  a  low  stool  at 
his  feet,  or  perhaps  oftener  on  his  knee,  with  his  arm 
around  her  waist 

She  had  an  eager  and  growing  thirst  for  knowledge, 
and  was  an  apt  scholar,  whom  any  one  with  the  least 
love  for  the  profession  might  have  delighted  in  teach 
ing;  and  Mr.  Dinsmore,  a  thorough  scholar  himself,  and 
loving  knowledge  for  its  own  sake — loving  also  his 
little  pupil  with  all  a  father's  fond,  yearning  affection 
— delighted  in  his  task. 

When  Elsie  left  her  father  she  found  that  the  Car- 
ringtons  had  just  arrived.  She  and  Lucy  had  not 
seen  each  other  since  the  week  the  latter  had  spent  at 
Roselands  early  in  the  summer,  and  both  felt  pleased 
to  meet. 

Mrs.  Carrington  gave  Elsie  a  warm  embrace,  re 
marking  that  she  had  grown,  and  was  looking  ex 
tremely  well;  better  than  she  had  ever  seen  her.  But 
no  one  was  more  delighted  to  meet  Elsie  than  Herbert, 
and  she  was  very  glad  to  learn  that  his  health  was 
gradually  improving.  He  was  not,  however,  at  all 
strong,  even  yet,  and  his  mother  thought  it  best  for 
him  to  lie  down  and  rest  a  little  after  his  ride.  She 
promised  to  sit  by  him,  and  the  two  little  girls  went 
in  search  of  the  rest  of  the  young  folks. 

Several  of  the  older  boys  had  gone  out  walking  or 
riding,  but  the  younger  ones,  and  all  the  little  girls, 
were  gathered  in  a  little  back  parlor,  where,  by  Ade 
laide's  care  and  forethought,  a  variety  of  story-books, 
toys,  and  games,  had  been  provided  for  their  amuse 
ment  Elsie's  entrance  was  hailed  with  delight,  for 
she  was  a  general  favorite* 


286  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"Oh!  Elsie,  can't  you  tell  us  what  to  play?"  cried 
Mary  Leslie;  "I'm  so  tired,"  and  she  yawned  wearily. 

"Here  are  some  dissected  maps,  Mary,"  replied 
Elsie,  opening  a  drawer;  "would  you  not  like  them?" 

"No,  indeed,  thank  you;  they  are  too  much  like 
lessons." 

"Here  are  blocks ;  will  you  build  houses  ?" 

"Oh !  I  am  too  big  for  that ;  they  are  very  nice  for 
little  children." 

"Will  you  play  jack-stones?  here  are  some  smooth 
pebbles." 

"Yes,  if  you  and  Carry,  and  Lucy,  will  play 
with  me." 

"Agreed !"  said  the  others,  "let's  have  a  game." 

So,  Elsie  having  first  set  the  little  ones  to  building 
block-houses,  supplied  Harry  Carrington — an  older 
brother  of  Lucy's — with  a  book,  and  two  younger  boys 
with  dissected  maps  to  arrange,  the  four  girls  sat  down 
in  a  circle  on  the  carpet  and  began  their  game. 

For  a  few  moments  all  went  on  smoothly ;  but  soon 
angry  and  complaining  words  were  heard  coming  from 
the  corner  where  the  house-building  wras  going  on. 
I  Elsie  left  her  game  to  try  to  make  peace. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Flora,  dear  ?"  she  asked  sooth 
ingly  of  a  little  curly-headed  girl,  who  was  sobbing, 
and  wiping  her  eyes  with  the  corner  of  her  apron. 

"Enna  took  my  blocks,"  sobbed  the  child. 

"Oh !  Enna,  won't  you  give  them  back  ?"  said  Elsie, 
coaxingly;  "you  know  Flora  is  a  visitor,  and  we  must 
be  very  polite  to  her." 

"No,  I  won't,"  returned  Enna,  flatly;  "she's  got 
enough  now." 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  287 

"No,  I  haven't;  I  can't  build  a  house  with  those," 
Flora  said,  with  another  sob. 

Elsie  stood  a  moment  looking  much  perplexed ;  then, 
with  a  brightening  face,  exclaimed  in  her  cheerful, 
pleasant  way,  "Well,  never  mind,  Flora,  dear,  I  will 
get  you  my  doll.  Will  not  that  do  quite  as  well  ?" 

"Oh !  yes,  I'd  rather  have  the  doll,  Elsie,"  the  little 
-weeper  answered  eagerly,  smiling  through  her  tears. 

Flsie  ran  out  of  the  room  and  was  back  again  almost 
in  a  moment,  with  the  doll  in  her  arms. 

"There,  dear  little  Flora,"  she  said,  laying  it  gently 
on  the  child's  lap,  "please  be  careful  of  it  for  I  have 
had  it  a  long  while,  and  prize  it  very  much,  because  my 
guardian  gave  it  to  me  when  I  was  a  very  little  girl, 
and  he  is  dead  now." 

"I  won't  break  it,  Elsie,  indeed  I  won't,"  replied 
Flora,  confidently;  and  Elsie  sat  down  to  her  game 
again. 

A  few  moments  afterward  Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore 
passed  through  the  room. 

"Elsie,"  he  said,  as  he  caught  sight  of  his  little 
daughter,  "go  up  to  my  dressing-room." 

There  was  evidently  displeasure  and  reproof  in  his 
tone,  and,  entirely  unconscious  of  wrongdoing,  Elsie 
'  looked  up  in  surprise,  asking,  "Why,  papa  ?" 

"Because  /  bid  you,"  he  replied;  and  she  silently 
obeyed,  wondering  greatly  what  she  had  done  to  dis 
please  her  father. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  passed  out  of  one  door  while  Elsie 
left  by  the  other. 

The  three  little  girls  looked  inquiringly  into  each 
other's  faces. 


288  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"What  is  the  matter?  what  has  Elsie  done?"  asked 
Carry  in  a  whisper. 

"I  don't  know;  nothing  I  guess,"  replied  Lucy,  in 
dignantly.  "I  do  believe  he's  just  the  Grossest  man 
alive!  When  I  was  here  last  summer  he  was  all  the 
time  scolding  and  punishing  poor  Elsie  for  just  nothing 
at  all." 

"I  think  he  must  be  very  strict,"  said  Carry;  "but 
Elsie  seems  to  love  him  very  much." 

"Strict !  I  guess  he  is !"  exclaimed  Mary ;  "why,  only 
think,  girls,  he  makes  her  do  her  lessons  in  the 
holidays!" 

"I  suspect  she  did  not  know  her  lesson,  and  has  to 
learn  it  over,"  said  Carry,  shaking  her  head  wisely; 
and  that  was  the  conclusion  they  all  came  to. 

In  the  meantime,  Elsie  sat  down  alone  in  her  banish 
ment,  and  tried  to  think  what  she  could  have  done  to 
deserve  it. 

It  was  some  time  before  she  could  form  any  idea  of 
its  cause;  but  at  length  it  suddenly  came  to  her  recol 
lection  that  once,  several  months  before  this,  her  father 
had  found  her  sitting  on  the  carpet,  and  had  bade  her 
get  up  immediately  and  sit  on  a  chair  or  stool,  saying, 
"Never  let  me  see  you  sitting  on  the  floor,  Elsie,  when 
there  are  plenty  of  seats  at  hand.  I  consider  it  a  very 
unladylike  and  slovenly  trick." 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  sat  thus 
for  some  moments,  feeling  very  sorry  for  her  forget- 
fulness  and  disobedience ;  very  penitent  on  account  of 
it;  and  then,  kneeling  down,  she  asked  forgiveness  of 
God. 

A  full  hour  she  had  been  there  alone,  and  the  time 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  289 

had  seemed  very  long,  when  at  last  the  door  opened 
and  her  father  came  in. 

Elsie  rose  and  came  forward  to  meet  him  writh  the 
air  of  one  who  had  offended  and  knew  she  was  in  dis 
grace  ;  but  putting  one  of  her  little  hands  in  his,  she 
looked  up  pleadingly  into  his  face,  asking,  in  a  slightly 
tremulous  tone,  "Dear  papa,  are  you  angry  with  me?" 

"I  am  always  displeased  when  you  disobey  me, 
Elsie,"  he  replied,  very  gravely,  laying  his  other  hand 
on  her  head. 

"I  am  very  sorry  I  was  naughty,  papa,"  she  said, 
humbly,  and  casting  down  her  eyes,  "but  I  had  quite 
forgotten  that  you  had  told  me  not  to  sit  on  the  floor, 
and  I  could  not  think  for  a  good  while  what  it  was  that 
I  had  done  wrong." 

"Is  that  an  excuse  for  disobedience,  Elsie?"  he  asked 
in  a  tone  of  grave  displeasure. 

"No,  sir ;  I  did  not  mean  it  so,  and  I  am  very,  very 
sorry ;  dear  papa,  please  forgive  me,  and  I  will  try 
never  to  forget  again." 

"I  think  you  disobeyed  in  another  matter,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  know  it  was  very  naughty  to  ask  why, 
but  I  think  I  will  remember  not  to  do  it  again.  Dear 
papa,  won't  you  forgive  me  ?" 

He  sat  down  and  took  her  on  his  knee. 

"Yes,  daughter,  I  will,"  he  said,  in  his  usual  kind, 
affectionate  tone;  "I  am  always  ready  to  forgive  my 
little  girl  when  I  see  that  she  is  sorry  for  a  fault." 

She  held  up  her  face  for  a  kiss,  which  he  gave. 

"I  wish  I  could  always  be  good,  papa,"  she  said, 
"but  I  am  naughty  so  often." 

"No,"  said  he,  "I  think  you  have  been  a  very  good 


290  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

girl  for  quite  a  long  time.  If  you  were  as  naughty  as 
Arthur  and  Enna,  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  with 
you;  whip  you  every  day,  I  suspect,  until  I  made  a 
better  girl  of  you.  Now  you  may  go  down  to  your 
mates;  but  remember,  you  are  not  to  play  jack-stones 
again." 

It  was  now  lunch-time,  and  Elsie  found  the  children 
\n  the  nursery  engaged  in  eating. 

Flora  turned  to  her  as  she  entered. 

"Please,  Elsie,  don't  be  cross,"  she  said  coaxinglyr 
**I  am  real  sorry  your  doll's  broken,  but  it  wasn't  my 
fault.  Enna  would  try  to  snatch  it,  and  that  made  it 
lall  and  break  its  head." 

Poor  Elsie!  this  was  quite  a  trial,  and  she  could 
scarcely  keep  back  the  tears  as,  following  Flora's 
glance,  she  saw  her  valued  doll  lying  on  the  window- 
seat  with  its  head  broken  entirely  off.  She  said  not  a 
word,  but,  hastily  crossing  the  room,  took  it  up  and 
gazed  mournfully  at  it. 

Kind  Mrs.  Brown,  who  had  just  finished  helping  her 
young  charge  all  round,  followed  her  to  the  window, 

"Never  mind,  dear,"  she  said  in  her  pleasant,  cheer/ 
tone,  patting  Elsie's  cheek  and  smoothing  her  hair, 
"I've  got  some  excellent  glue,  and  I  think  I  can  stick 
it  on  again  and  make  it  almost  as  good  as  ever.  So 
come,  sit  down  and  eat  your  lunch,  and  don't  fret  any 
more." 

"Thank  you,  ma'am,  you  are  very  kind,"  Elsie  said, 
trying  to  smile,  as  the  kind-hearted  old  lady  led  her 
to  the  table  and  filled  her  plate  with  fruit  and  cakes. 

"These  cakes  are  very  simple,  not  at  all  rich,  my 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  291 

dear,  but  quite  what  your  papa  would  approve  of,"  she 
said,  seeing  the  little  girl  look  doubtfully  at  them. 

"Doesn't  your  papa  let  you  eat  anything  good, 
Elsie  ?"  asked  Mary  Leslie  across  the  table.  "He  must 
be  cross." 

"No,  indeed,  he  is  not,  Mary,  and  he  lets  me  eat 
everything  that  he  thinks  is  good  for  me,"  Elsie  an 
swered  with  some  warmth. 

She  was  seated  between  Caroline  Howard  and  Lucy 
Carrington. 

"What  did  your  papa  send  you  away  for,  Elsie?" 
whispered  the  latter. 

"Please  don't  ask  me,  Lucy,"  replied  the  little  girl, 
blushing  deeply.  "Papa  always  has  a  good  reason  for 
what  he  does,  and  he  is  just  the  dearest,  kindest,  and 
best  father  that  ever  anybody  had." 

Elsie  spoke  in  an  eager,  excited,  almost  angry  man 
ner,  quite  unusual  with  her,  while  the  hot  tears  came 
into  her  eyes,  for  she  knew  very  well  what  was  Lucy's 
opinion  of  her  father,  and  more  than  half  suspected 
that  she  had  been  making  some  unkind  remark  about 
him  to  the  others,  and  she  was  eager  to  remove  any 
unfavorable  impression  they  might  have  received. 

"I  am  sure  he  must  love  you  very  dearly,  Elsie,"  re- 
marked  Caroline,  soothingly ;  "no  one  could  help  seeing 
that  just  by  the  way  he  looks  at  you." 

Elsie  answered  her  with  a  pleased  and  grateful  look; 
and  then  changed  the  subject  by  proposing  that  they 
should  all  take  a  walk  as  soon  as  they  had  finished  eat' 
ing,  as  the  day  was  fine,  and  there  would  be  plenty  oi 
time  before  dinner. 

The  motion  was  carried  without  a  dissenting  voice. 


292  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

and  in  a  few  moments  they  all  set  out,  a  very  merry 
party,  full  of  fun  and  frolic.  They  had  a  very  pleasant 
time,  and  returned  barely  in  season  to  be  dressed  for 
dinner. 

They  dined  by  themselves  in  the  nursery,  but  were 
afterward  taken  down  to  the  drawing-room.  Here 
Elsie  found  herself  immediately  seized  upon  by  a  young 
lady,  dressed  in  very  gay  and  fashionable  style,  whom 
she  did  not  remember  ever  to  have  seen  before,  but 
who  insisted  on  seating  the  little  girl  on  the  sofa  by  her 
side,  and  keeping  her  there  a  long  while,  loading  her 
with  caresses  and  flattery. 

"My  dear  child,"  she  said,  "what  lovely  hair  you 
have!  so  fine,  and  soft,  and  glossy;  such  a  beautiful 
color,  too,  and  curls  so  splendidly!  Natural  ringlets, 
I'm  sure,  are  they  not?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  Elsie  answered,  simply,  wishing  from 
the  bottom  of  her  heart  that  the  lady  would  release  her, 
and  talk  to  some  one  else. 

But  the  lady  had  no  such  intention. 

"You  are  a  very  sweet  little  girl,  I  am  sure,  and  I 
shall  love  you  dearly,"  she  said,  kissing  her  several 
times.  "Ah!  I  would  give  anything  if  I  had  such  a 
clear  fair  complexion  and  such  rosy  cheeks.  That 
makes  you  blush.  Well,  I  like  to  see  it;  blushes  are 
very  becoming.  Oh!  you  needn't  pretend  you  don't 
know  you're  handsome;  you're  a  perfect  little  beauty. 
Do  tell  me,  where  did  you  get  such  splendid  eyes !  But 
I  needn't  ask,  for  I  have  only  to  look  at  your  father  to 
see  where  they  came  from.  Mr.  Dinsmore" — to  Elsie's 
papa,  who  just  then  came  toward  them — "you  ou^ht  to 


ELSIE   D1NSMORE  293 

be  very  proud  of  this  child;  she  is  the  very  image  of 
yourself,  and  a  perfect  little  beauty,  too," 

"Miss  Stevens  is  pleased  to  flatter  me,"  he  said, 
bowing  low ;  "but  flattery  is  not  good  for  either  grown 
up  children  or  younger  ones,  and  I  must  beg  leave  to 
decline  the  compliment,  as  I  cannot  see  that  Elsie  bears 
the  slightest  resemblance  to  me  or  any  of  my  family. 
She  is  very  like  her  mother,  though,"  he  added,  with  a 
half  sigh  and  a  tender,  loving  glance  at  his  little  girl, 
"and  that  is  just  what  I  would  have  her.  But  I  am 
forgetting  my  errand,  Miss  Stevens ;  I  came  to  ask  if 
you  will  ride  this  afternoon,  as  we  are  getting  up  a 
small  party." 

"Yes,  thank  you,  I  should  like  it  dearly,  it  is  such  a 
lovely  day.  But  how  soon  do  you  start  ?" 

"As  soon  as  the  ladies  can  be  ready.  The  horses  will 
be  at  the  door  in  a  very  few  moments." 

"Ah !  then  I  must  go  and  prepare,"  she  said,  rising 
and  sailing  out  of  the  room. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  took  the  seat  she  had  vacated,  and, 
passing  his  arm  round  his  little  girl,  said  to  her  in  an 
undertone,  "My  little  daughter  must  not  be  so  foolish 
as  to  believe  that  people  mean  all  they  say  to  her ;  for 
some  persons  talk  in  a  very  thoughtless  way,  and, 
without  perhaps  intending  to  be  exactly  untruthful, 
Bay  a  great  deal  that  they  really  do  not  mean.  And  I 
should  be  sorry,  indeed,  to  see  my  little  girl  so  spoiled 
by  all  this  silly  flattery  as  to  grow  up  conceited  and 
vain." 

She  looked  at  him  with  her  own  sweet  innocent 
smile,  free  from  the  slightest  touch  of  vanity. 

"No,  pa^a,"  she  sai4,J'I  do  not  mind,  when  people 


294  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

say  such  things,  because  I  know  the  Bible  says,  'Favor 
is  deceitful,  and  beauty  is  vain ;'  and  in  another  place, 
'He  that  flattereth  his  neighbor  spreadeth  a  net  for  his 
feet.'  So  I  will  try  to  keep  away  from  that  lady ;  shall 
I  not,  papa  ?" 

"Whenever  you  can  do  so  without  rudeness,  daugh 
ter;"  and  he  moved  away,  thinking  to  himself,  "How 
strangely  the  teachings  of  that  book  seem  to  preserve 
my  child  from  every  evil  influence." 

A  sigh  escaped  him.  There  was  lurking  within  his 
breast  a  vague  consciousness  that  her  father  needed 
such  a  safeguard,  but  had  it  not. 

Lucy,  who  was  standing  at  the  window,  turned 
quickly  round. 

"Come,  girls,"  she  said,  "let  us  run  out  and  see 
them  off;  they're  bringing  up  the  horses.  And  see, 
there's  Miss  Adelaide  in  her  riding-dress  and  cap; 
how  pretty  she  looks!  And  there's  that  Miss  Stevens 
coming  out  now;  hateful  thing!  I  can't  bear  her! 
Come,  Elsie  and  Carry !" 

And  she  ran  out,  Caroline  and  Elsie  following. 
Elsie,  however,  went  no  further  than  the  hall,  where 
she  stood  still  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"Come,  Elsie,"  called  the  other  two  from  the  portico, 
"come  out  here." 

"No,"  replied  the  little  girl,  "I  cannot  come  without 
something  round  me.  Papa  says  it  is  too  cold  for  me  to 
be  out  in  the  wind  to-day  with  my  neck  and  arms  bare." 

"Pooh !  nonsense !"  said  Lucy,  "  'tain't  a  bit  cold ;  do 
come  now." 

"No,  Lucy,  I  must  obey  my  father,"  Elsie  answered 
10  a  very  pleasant  but  no  less  decided  tone*. 


ELSIE   DINSMORK  295 

Some  one  caught  her  round  the  waist  and  lifted 
her  up. 

"Oh!  papa,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  did  not  know  you 
were  there!  I  wish  I  was  going  too;  I  don't  like  to 
have  you  go  without  me." 

"I  wish  you  were,  my  pet;  I  always  love  to  have 
you  with  me ;  but  you  know  it  wouldn't  do ;  you  have 
your  little  guests  to  entertain.  Good-by,  darling. 
Don't  go  out  in  the  cold." 

He  kissed  her,  as  he  always  did  now,  when  leaving 
her  even  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  set  her  down. 

The  little  girls  watched  until  the  last  of  the  party 
had  disappeared  down  the  avenue,  and  then  ran  gayly 
up-stairs  to  Elsie's  room,  where  they  busied  themselves 
until  tea-time  in  various  little  preparations  for  the 
evening,  such  as  dressing  dolls,  and  tying  up  bundles 
of  confectionery,  etc.,  to  be  hung  upon  the  Christmas- 
tree. 

The  children  had  all  noticed  that  the  doors  of  a 
parlor  opening  into  the  drawing-room  had  been  closed 
since  morning  to  all  but  a  favored  few,  who  passed  in 
and  out,  with  an  air  of  mystery  and  importance,  and 
generally  laden  with  some  odd-looking  bundle  when 
going  in,  which  they  invariably  left  behind  on  coming 
out  again,  and  many  a  whispered  consultation  had 
been  held  as  to  what  was  probably  going  on  in  there. 
Elsie  and  Carry  seemed  to  be  in  the  secret,  but  only 
smiled  and  shook  their  heads  wisely  when  questioned. 
But  at  length  tea  being  over,  and  all,  both  old  and 
young,  assembled  as  if  by  common  consent  in  the 
drawing-room,  it  began  to  be  whispered  about  that 
their  curiosity  was  now  on  the  point  of  being  gratified 


296  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

All  were  immediately  on  the  qui  inve,  and  every  face 
brightened  with  mirth  and  expectation;  and  when,  a 
moment  after,  the  doors  were  thrown  open,  there  was 
a  universal  burst  of  applause. 

A  large  Christmas-tree  had  been  set  up  at  the 
further  end  of  the  room,  and,  with  its  myriad  of 
lighted  tapers,  and  its  load  of  toys  and  bonbons,  inter 
spersed  with  many  a  richer  and  more  costly  gift,  made 
quite  a  display. 

"Beautiful!  beautiful!"  cried  the  children,  clapping 
their  hands  and  dancing  about  with  delight,  while 
their  elders,  perhaps  equally  pleased,  expressed  their 
admiration  after  a  more  staid  and  sober  fashion.  When 
they  thought  their  handiwork  had  been  sufficiently  ad 
mired,  Mrs.  Dinsmore  and  Adelaide  approached  the 
tree  and  began  the  pleasant  task  of  distributing  the 
gifts. 

Everything  was  labelled,  and  each,  as  his  or  her 
name  was  called  out,  stepped  forward  to  receive  the 
present. 

No  one  had  been  forgotten;  each  had  something, 
and  almost  every  one  had  several  pretty  presents. 
Mary  Leslie  and  little  Flora  Arnott  were  made  per 
fectly  happy  with  wax  dolls  that  could  open  and  shut 
their  eyes;  Caroline  Howard  received  a  gold  chain 
from  her  mamma,  and  a  pretty  pin  from  Elsie ;  Lucy, 
a  set  of  coral  ornaments,  besides  several  smaller  pres 
ents;  and  others  were  equally  fortunate.  All  was 
mirth  and  hilarity;  only  one  clouded  face  to  be  seen, 
and  that  belonged  to  Enna,  who  was  pouting  in  a 
corner  because  Mary  Leslie's  doll  was  a  little  larger 
than  hers* 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  297 

Elsie  had  already  received  a  pretty  bracelet  from  her 
Aunt  Adelaide,  a  needle-case  from  Lora,  and  several 
little  gifts  from  her  young  guests,  and  was  just  be 
ginning  to  wonder  what  had  become  of  her  papa's 
promised  present,  when  she  heard  her  name  again, 
and  Adelaide,  turning  to  her  with  a  pleased  look, 
slipped  a  most  beautiful  diamond  ring  on  her  finger. 

"From  your  papa,"  she  said.  "Go  and  thank  him? 
it  is  well  worth  it." 

Elsie  sought  him  out  where  he  stood  alone  in  a 
corner,  an  amused  spectator  of  the  merry  scene. 

"See,  papa,"  she  said,  holding  up  her  hand.  "I 
think  it  very  beautiful;  thank  you,  d^ir  papa,  thank 
you  very  much." 

"Does  it  please  you,  my  darling?"  he  asked,  stoop 
ing  to  press  a  kiss  on  the  little  upturned  face,  so 
bright  and  happy. 

"Yes,  papa,  I  think  it  is  lovely!  the  very  prettiest 
ring  I  ever  saw." 

"Yet  I  think  there  is  something  else  you  would  have 
liked  better;  is  there  not?"  he  asked,  looking  search- 
ingly  into  her  face. 

"Dear  papa,  I  like  it  very  much;  I  would  rather 
have  it  than  anything  else  on  the  tree." 

"Still  you  have  not  answered  my  question,"  he  said, 
with  a  smile,  as  he  sat  down  and  drew  her  to  his  side, 
adding  in  a  playful  tone,  "Come,  I  am  not  going  to 
put  up  with  any  evasion;  tell  me  truly  if  you  would 
have  preferred  something  else,  and  if  so,  what  it  is." 

Elsie  blushed  and  looked  down;  then  raising  her 
eyes,  and  seeing  with  what  a  terder,  loving  glance  he 
was  regarding  her,  she  took  courage  to  sa.x,  "Yes. 


298  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

papa,  there  is  one  thing  I  would  have  liked  better,  and 
that  is  your  miniature." 

To  her  surprise  he  looked  highly  pleased  at  her 
reply,  and  giving  her  another  kiss,  said,  "Well,  darling, 
some  day  you  shall  have  it." 

"Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore,"  called  Adelaide,  taking 
some  small,  glittering  object  from  the  tree. 

"Another  present  for  me?"  he  asked,  as  Walter 
came  running  with  it. 

He  had  already  received  several,  from  his  father 
and  sisters,  but  none  had  seemed  to  give  him  half  the 
pleasure  that  this  did  when  he  saw  that  it  was  labelled, 
"From  his  little  daughter." 

It  was  only  a  gold  pencil.  The  miniature — with 
which  the  artist  had  succeeded  so  well  that  nothing 
could  have  been  prettier  except  the  original  herself — 
she  had  reserved  to  be  given  in  another  way. 

"Do  you  like  it,  papa  ?"  she  asked,  her  face  glowing 
with  delight  to  see  how  pleased  he  was. 

"Yes,  darling,  very  much;  and  I  shall  always  think 
of  my  little  girl  when  I  use  it." 

"Keep  it  in  your  pocket,  and  use  it  every  day,  won't 
you,  papa?" 

"Yes,  my  pet,  I  will;  but  I  thought  you  said  you 
had  no  present  for  me  ?" 

"Oh!  no,  no,  papa;  I  said  there  was  none  for  you 
amongst  those  bundles.  I  had  bought  this,  but  had 
given  it  to  Aunt  Adelaide  to  take  care  of,  for  fear  you 
might  happen  to  see  it." 

"Ah!  that  was  it,  eh?"  and  he  laughed  and  stroked 
her  hair. 

"Here,  Elsie,  here  is  your  bundle  of  candy,"  said 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  299 

Walter,  running  up  to  them  again.  "Everybody  has 
one,  and  that  is  yours,  Adelaide  says." 

He  put  it  in  her  hand,  and  ran  away  again.  Elsie 
looked  up  in  her  father's  face  inquiringly. 

"No,  darling,"  he  said,  taking  the  paper  from  her 

hand  and  examining  its  contents,  "not  to-night;  to- 

.  morrow,  after  breakfast,  you  may  eat  the  cream-candy 

1  and  the  rock,  but  none  of  the  others;  they  are  colored, 

and  very  unwholesome." 

"Won't  you  eat  some,  papa?"  she  asked  with  win 
ning  sweetness. 

"No,  dearest,"  he  said ;  "for  though  I,  too,  am  fond 
of  sweet  things,  I  will  not  eat  them  while  I  refuse 
them  to  you." 

"Do,  papa,"  she  urged,  "it  would  give  me  pleasure 
to  see  you  enjoying  it." 

"No,  darling,  /  will  wait  until  to-morrow,  too." 

"Then  please  keep  it  for  me  until  to-morrow,  papa, 
will  you?" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  putting  it  in  his  pocket;  and  then, 
as  the  gifts  had  all  been  distributed,  and  the  little  folks 
were  in  high  glee,  a  variety  of  sports  were  commenced 
by  them,  in  which  some  of  their  elders  also  took  a 
part;  and  thus  the  hours  sped  away  so  rapidly  that 
Elsie  was  very  much  surprised  when  her  father  called 
her  to  go  to  bed. 

"Is  it  half-past  nine  already,  papa?"  she  asked. 

"It  is  ten,  my  dear  child,  and  high  time  you  were  in 
bed,"  he  said,  smiling  at  her  look  of  astonishment.  "I 
hope  you  have  enjoyed  yourself." 

"Oh!  so  much,  papa.  Good-night,  and  thank  you 
for  letting  me  stay  up  so  long:." 


CHAPTER  FIFTEENTH 

"Ask  me  not  why  I  should  love  her; — 

Look  upon  those  soulful  eyes ! 
Look  while  mirth  or  feeling  move  her, 

And  see  there  how  sweetly  rise 
Thoughts  gay  and  gentle  from  a  breast 
Which  is  of  innocence  the  nest — 
Which,  though  each  joy  were  from  it  shred, 
By  truth  would  still  be  tenanted !" 

— HOFFMAN'S  Poems. 

IT  was  yet  dark  when  Elsie  awoke,  but,  hearing  the 
clock  strike  five,  she  knew  it  was  morning.  She  lay 
still  a  little  while,  and  then,  slipping  softly  out  of  bed, 
put  her  feet  into  her  slippers,  threw  her  warm  dress 
ing-gown  around  her,  and  feeling  for  a  little  package 
she  had  left  on  her  toilet-table,  she  secured  it  and 
stole  noiselessly  from  the  room. 

All  was  darkness  and  silence  in  the  house,  but  she 
had  no  thought  of  fear;  and,  gliding  gently  down  the 
hall  to  her  papa's  door,  she  turned  the  handle  very 
cautiously,  when,  to  her  great  delight,  she  found  it 
had  been  left  unfastened,  and  yielded  readily  to  her 
touch. 

She  entered  as  quietly  as  a  little  mouse,  listened  a 
moment  until  satisfied  from  his  breathing  that  her 
father  was  still  sound  asleep,  then,  stepping  softly 
across  the  room,  she  laid  her  package  down  where  he 
could  not  fail  to  see  it  as  soon  as  daylight  came  and 

300 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  301 

his  eyes  were  opened.    This  accomplished,   she  stole 
back  again  as  noiselessly  as  she  had  come. 

"Who  dat?"  demanded  Chloe,  starting  up  in  bed 
as  Elsie  reentered  her  own  apartment. 

"It  is  only  I;  did  I  frighten  you,  mammy?"  an 
swered  the  little  girl  with  a  merry  laugh. 

"Ki?  chile,  dat  you?  what  you  doin'  runnin'  'bout 
de  house  all  in  de  dark,  cold  night?" 

"It  isn't  night,  mammy ;  I  heard  it  strike  five  some 
time  ago." 

"Well,  den,  dis  chile  gwine  get  right  up  an'  make 
de  fire.  But  jes  you  creep  back  into  de  bed,  darlin', 
'fore  you  cotch  your  death  ob  cold." 

"I  will,  mammy,"  Elsie  said,  doing  as  she  was  de 
sired;  "but  please  dress  me  as  soon  as  the  room  is 
warm  enough,  won't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  darlin',  kase  ob  course  I  knows  you  want  to 
be  up  early  o'  Christmas  mornin'.  Ki!  Miss  Elsie, 
dat's  a  beautiful  shawl  you  gave  your  ole  mammy.  I 
sha'n't  feel  de  cold  at  all  dis  winter." 

"I  hope  not,  mammy;  and  were  Aunt  Phillis,  and 
Uncle  Jack,  and  all  the  rest  pleased  with  their 
presents  ?" 

"I  reckon  dey  was,  darlin',  mos'  ready  to  go  off  de 
handle,  'tirely." 

Chloe  had  soon  built  up  her  fire  and  coaxed  it  into  a 
bright  blaze,  and  in  a  few  moments  more  she  pro 
nounced  the  room  sufficiently  warm  for  her  nursling 
to  get  up  and  be  dressed. 

Elsie  was  impatient  to  go  to  her  father;  but,  even 
lifter  she  had  been  carefully  dressed  and  all  her  morn 
ing  duties  attended  to,  it  was  still  so  early  that  Chloe 


302  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

advised  her  to  wait  a  little  longer,  assuring  her  that 
it  was  only  a  very  short  time  since  John  had  gone  in 
to  make  his  master's  fire  and  supply  him  with  hot 
water  for  shaving. 

So  the  little  girl  sat  down  and  tried  to  drown  her 
impatience  in  the  pages  of  a  new  book — one  of  her 
Christmas  presents.  But  Chloe  presently  stole  softly 
behind  her  chair,  and,  holding  up  high  above  her  head 
some  glittering  object  attached  to  a  pretty  gold  chain, 
let  it  gradually  descend  until  it  rested  upon  the  open 
book. 

Elsie  started  and  jumped  up  with  an  exclamation  of 
surprise. 

"Wonder  if  you  knows  dat  gen'leman,  darlin'?" 
laughed  Chloe. 

"Oh !  it  is  papa/'  cried  the  little  girl,  catching  it  in 
her  hand,  "my  own  dear,  darling  papa !  oh !  how  good 
of  him  to  give  it  to  me!"  and  she  danced  about 
the  room  in  her  delight.  "It  is  just  himself,  so  exactly 
like  him !  Isn't  it  a  good  likeness,  mammy  ?"  she  asked, 
drawing  near  the  light  to  examine  it  more  closely. 
"Dear,  dear,  darling  papa!"  and  she  kissed  it  again 
and  again. 

Then  gently  drawing  her  mother's  miniature  from 
her  bosom,  she  laid  them  side  by  side. 

"My  papa  and  mamma;  are  they  not  beautiful, 
mammy?  both  of  them?"  she  asked,  raising  her  swim 
ming  eyes  to  the  dusky  face  leaning  over  her,  and 
gazing  with  such  mournful  fondness  at  the  sweet  girl 
ish  countenance,  so  life-like  and  beautiful,  yet  calling 
up  thoughts  of  sorrow  and  bereavement. 

"My   darling  young  missus!"   murmured  the  old 


ELSIE   DIMSMORE  303 

nurse,  "my  own  precious  chile  dat  dese  arms  hab  car 
ried  so  many  years,  dis  ole  heart  like  to  break  when- 
eber  I  tinks  ob  you,  an'  'members  how  your  bright 
young  face  done  gone  away  foreber." 

The  big  tears  were  rolling  fast  down  the  sable 
cheeks,  and  dropping  like  rain  on  Elsie's  curls,  while 
the  broad  bosom  heaved  with  sobs.  "But  your  ole 
mammy's  been  good  to  your  little  chile  dat  you  lef 
behind,  darlin',  'deed  she  has,"  she  went  on. 

"Yes,  mammy,  indeed,  indeed  you  have,"  Elsie  said, 
twining  her  arms  lovingly  around  her.  "But  don't  let 
us  cry  any  more,  for  we  know  that  dear  mamma  is 
very  happy  in  heaven,  and  does  not  wish  us  to  grieve 
for  her  now.  I  shall  not  show  you  the  picture  any 
more  if  it  makes  you  cry  like  that,"  she  added  half 
playfully. 

"Not  always,  chile,"  Chloe  said,  wiping  away  hef 
tears,  "but  jes  dis  here  mornin' — Christmas  mornin', 
when  she  was  always  so  bright  and  merry.  It  seems 
only  yesterday  she  went  dancin'  about  jes  like  you." 

"Yes,  mammy  dear,  but  she  is  with  the  angels  now 
— my  sweet,  pretty  mamma!"  Elsie  whispered  softly, 
with  another  tender,  loving  look  at  the  picture  ere  she 
returned  it  to  its  accustomed  resting-place  in  her 
bosom. 

"And  now  I  must  go  to  papa,"  she  said  more  cheer 
fully,  "for  it  is  almost  breakfast  time." 

"Is  my  darling  satisfied  now?"  he  asked,  as  she  ran 
into  his  arms  and  was  folded  in  a  close  embrace. 

"Yes,  papa,  indeed  I  am;  thank  you  a  thousand 
times;  it  is  all  I  wanted." 

"And  you  have  given  me  the  most  acceptable  pres« 


304  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

ent  you  could  have  found.    It  is  a  most  excellent  like 
ness,  and  I  am  delighted  with  it." 

"I  am  so  glad,  papa,  but  it  was  Aunt  Adelaide  who 
thought  of  it." 

"Ah!  that  was  very  kind  of  her.  But  how  does  my 
little  girl  feel  this  morning,  after  all  her  dissipation?" 

"Oh !  very  well,  thank  you,  papa." 

"You  will  not  want  to  say  any  lesson  to-day,  I 
suppose  ?" 

"Oh!  yes,  if  you  please,  papa,  and  it  does  not  give 
you  too  much  trouble,"  she  said.  "It  is  the  very 
pleasantest  hour  in  the  day,  except " 

"Well,  except  what?  Ah,  yes,  I  understand.  Well, 
my  pet,  it  shall  be  as  you  wish ;  but  come  to  me  .directly 
after  breakfast,  as  I  am  going  out  early." 

Elsie  had  had  her  hour  with  her  father,  but,  though 
he  had  left  her  and  gone  out,  she  still  lingered  in  his 
dressing-room,  looking  over  the  next  day's  lesson. 
At  length,  however,  she  closed  the  book  and  left  the 
room,  intending  to  seek  her  young  guests,  who  were 
in  the  lower  part  of  the  house. 

Miss  Stevens'  door  was  open  as  she  passed,  and  that 
lady  called  to  her,  "Elsie,  dear,  you  sweet  little  crea 
ture,  come  here,  and  see  what  I  have  for  you." 

Elsie  obeyed,  though  rather  reluctantly,  and  Miss 
Stevens  bidding  her  sit  down,  went  to  a  drawer,  and 
took  out  a  large  paper  of  mixed  candy,  all  of  the  best 
and  most  expensive  kinds,  which  she  put  into  the  little 
girl's  hands  with  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles. 

It  was  a  strong  temptation  to  a  child  who  had  a 
great  fondness  for  such  things,  but  Elsie  had  pravH 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  305 

from  her  heart  that  morning  for  strength  to  resist 
temptation,  and  it  was  given  her. 

"Thank  you,  ma'am,  you  are  very  kind,"  she  said 
gratefully,  "but  I  cannot  take  it,  because  papa  does 
not  approve  of  my  eating  such  things.  He  gave  me  a 
little  this  morning,  but  said  I  must  not  "have  any  more 
for  a  long  time." 

"Now,  that  is  quite  too  bad,"  exclaimed  Miss 
Stevens,  "but  at  least  take  one  or  two,  child;  that 
much  couldn't  possibly  hurt  you,  and  your  papa  need 
never  know." 

Elsie  gave  her  a  look  of  grieved  surprise. 

"Oh!  could  you  think  I  would  do  that?"  she  said. 
"But  God  would  know,  Miss  Stevens;  and  I  should 
know  it  myself,  and  how  could  I  ever  look  my  papa 
in  the  face  again  after  deceiving  him  so?" 

"Really,  my  dear,  you  are  making  a  very  serious 
matter  of  a  mere  trifle,"  laughed  the  lady;  "why,  I 
have  deceived  my  father  more  than  fifty  times,  and 
never  thought  it  any  harm.  But  here  is  something 
I  am  sure  you  can  take,  and  indeed  you  must,  for  I 
bought  both  it  and  the  candy  expressly  for  you." 

She  replaced  the  candy  in  the  drawer  as  she  spoke, 
and  took  from  another  a  splendidly-bound  book  which 
she  laid  in  Elsie's  lap,  saying,  with  a  triumphant  air, 
"There,  my  dear,  what  do  you  think  of  that?  is  it 
not  handsome?"  i 

Elsie's  eyes  sparkled ;  books  were  her  greatest  treas 
ures  ;  but  feeling  an  instinctive  repugnance  to  taking  a 
gift  from  one  whom  she  could  neither  respect  nor  love, 
she  made  an  effort  to  decline  it,  though  at  the  same 
time  thanking  the  lady  warmly  fp.cher  kind  intentions. 


3Q<5  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

But  Miss  Stevens  would  hear  of  no  refusal,  and 
fairly  forced  it  upon  her  acceptance,  declaring  that,  as 
she  had  bought  it  expressly  for  her,  she  should  feel 
extremely  hurt  if  she  did  not  take  it. 

"Then  I  will,  Miss  Stevens,"  said  the  little  girl,  "and 
I  am  sure  you  are  very  kind.  I  love  books  and  pic 
tures,  too,  and  these  are  lovely  engravings,"  she  added, 
turning  over  the  leaves  with  undisguised  pleasure. 

"Yes,  and  the  stories  are  right  pretty,  too,"  re 
marked  Miss  Stevens. 

"Yes,  ma'am,  they  look  as  if  they  were,  and  I  should 
like  dearly  to  read  them." 

"Well,  dear,  just  sit  down  and  read ;  there's  nothing 
to  hinder.  I'm  sure  your  little  friends  can  do  without 
you  for  an  hour  or  two.  Or,  if  you  prefer  it,  take  the 
book  and  enjoy  it  with  them;  it  is  your  own,  you 
know,  to  use  as  you  like." 

"Thank  you,  ma'am ;  but,  though  I  can  look  at  the 
pictures,  I  must  not  read  the  stories  until  I  have  askec* 
papa,  because  he  does  not  allow  me  to  read  anything 
now  without  first  showing  it  to  him." 

"Dear  me!  how  very  strict  he  is!"  exclaimed  Miss 
Stevens. 

"I  wonder,"  she  thought  to  herself,  "if  he  would 
expect  to  domineer  over  his  wife  in  that  style?" 

Elsie  was  slowly  turning  over  the  leaves  of  the  book, 
enjoying  the  pictures  very  much,  studying  them  in 
tently,  but  resolutely  refraining  from  even  glancing 
over  the  printed  pages.  But  at  length  she  closed  it, 
and,  looking  out  of  the  window,  said,  with  a  slight 
sigh,  "Oh !  I  wish  papa  would  come ;  but  I'm  afraid  ha 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  30? 

won't  for  a  long  while,  and  I  do  so  want  to  read  these 


stories." 


"Suppose  you  let  me  read  one  to  you,"  suggested 
Miss  Stevens ;  "that  would  not  be  your  reading  it,  you 
know." 

Elsie  looked  shocked  at  the  proposal.  "Oh!  no, 
ma'am,  thank  you,  I  know  you  mean  to  be  kind ;  but  I 
could  not  do  it ;  it  would  be  so  very  wrong ;  quite  the 
same,  I  am  sure,  as  if  I  read  it  with  my  own  eyes," 
she  answered  hurriedly;  and  then,  fearing  to  be 
tempted  further,  she  excused  herself  and  went  in 
search  of  her  young  companions. 

She  found  them  in  the  drawing-room. 

"Wasn't  it  too  provoking,  Elsie,  that  those  people 
didn't  send  home  my  bracelet  last  night?"  exclaimed 
Caroline  Howard.  "I  have  just  been  telling  Lucy 
about  it.  I  think  that  it  was  such  a  shame  for  them  to 
disappoint  me,  for  I  wanted  to  have  it  on  the  tree." 

"I  am  sorry  you  were  disappointed,  Carry,  but  per 
haps  it  will  come  to-day,"  Elsie  answered  in  a  sympa 
thizing  tone.  And  then  she  showed  the  new  book, 
which  she  still  held  in  her  hand. 

They  spent  some  time  in  examining  it,  talking  about 
and  admiring  the  pictures,  and  then  went  out  for  a 
walk. 

"Has  papa  come  in  yet,  mammy?"  was  Elsie's  first 
question  on  returning. 

"Yes,  darlin',  I  tink  he's  in  the  drawin'-room  dis 
berry  minute,"  Chloe  answered,  as  she  took  off  the 
little  girl's  hat,  and  carefully  smoothed  her  hair. 

"There,  there!  mammy,  won't  that  do  now?  I'm 
in  a  little  bit  of  a  hurry,"  Elsie  said  with  a  merry  little 


308  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

laugh,  as  she  slipped  playfully  from  under  her  nurse's 
hand,  and  ran  down-stairs. 

But  she  was  doomed  to  disappointment  for  the 
present,  for  her  papa  was  seated  on  the  sofa,  beside 
Miss  Stevens,  talking  to  her;  and  so  she  must  wait  a 
little  longer.  At  last,  however,  he  rose,  went  to  the 
other  side  of  the  room,  and  stood  a  moment  looking 
out  of  the  window. 

Then  Elsie  hastened  to  take  her  book  from  a  table, 
'where  she  had  laid  it,  and  going  up  to  him,  said, 
"Papa!" 

He  turned  round  instantly,  asking  in  a  pleasant 
tone,  "Well,  daughter,  what  is  it?" 

She  put  the  book  into  his  hand,  saying  eagerly,  "It 
is  a  Christmas  gift  from  Miss  Stevens,  papa;  will  you 
let  me  read  it?" 

He  did  not  answer  immediately,  but  turned  over  the 
leaves,  glancing  rapidly  over  page  after  page,  but  not 
too  rapidly  to  be  able  to  form  a  pretty  correct  idea  of 
the  contents. 

"No,  daughter,"  he  said,  handing  it  back  to  her, 
"you  must  content  yourself  with  looking  at  the  pic 
tures;  they  are  by  far  the  best  part;  the  stories  are 
very  unsuitable  for  a  little  girl  of  your  age,  and  would, 
Indeed,  be  unprofitable  reading  for  any  one." 

She  looked  a  little  disappointed. 

"I  am  glad  I  can  trust  my  little  daughter,  and  feel 
certain  that  she  will  not  disobey  me,"  he  said,  smiling 
kindly  on  her,  and  patting  her  cheek. 

She  answered  him  with  a  bright,  happy  look,  full  of 
£onfidm«*  affection,  laid  the  book  await  without  a  mur- 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  309 

mur,  and  left  the  room — her  father's  eyes  following 
her  with  a  fond,  loving  glance. 

Miss  Stevens,  who  had  watched  them  both  closely 
during  this  little  scene,  bit  her  lips  with  vexation  at 
the  result  of  her  manoeuvre. 

She  had  come  to  Roselands  with  the  fixed  determi 
nation  to  lay  siege  to  Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore's  heart, 
and  flattering  and  petting  his  little  daughter  was  one 
of  her  modes  of  attack;  but  his  decided  disapproval  of 
her  present,  she  perceived,  did  not  augur  well  for  the 
success  of  her  schemes.  She  was  by  no  means  in  des 
pair,  however,  for  she  had  great  confidence  in  the 
power  of  her  own  personal  attractions,  being  really 
tolerably  pretty,  and  considering  herself  a  great 
beauty,  as  well  as  very  highly  accomplished. 

As  Elsie  ran  out  into  the  hall,  she  found  herself 
suddenly  caught  in  Mr.  Travilla's  arms. 

"  'A  merry  Christmas  and  a  happy  New  Year !'  little 
Elsie,"  he  said,  kissing  her  on  both  cheeks.  "Now  I 
have  caught  you  figuratively  and  literally,  my  little 
lady,  so  what  are  you  going  to  give  me,  eh?" 

"Indeed,  sir,  I  think  you've  helped  yourself  to  the 
only  thing  I  have  to  give  at  present,"  she  answered 
with  a  merry  silvery  laugh. 

"Nay,  give  me  one,  little  lady,"  said  he,  "one  such 
hug  and  kiss  as  I  dare  say  your  father  gets  half-a- 
dozen  times  in  a  day." 

She  gave  it  very  heartily. 

"Ah!  I  wish  you  were  ten  years  older,"  he  said  as 
he  set  her  down. 

"If  I  had  been,  you  wouldn't  have  got  the  kiss,"  she 
replied,  smiling  archly. 


310  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"Now,  it's  my  turn,"  he  said,  taking  something  from 
his  pocket. 

"I  expected  you'd  catch  me,  and  so  thought  it  best 
to  come  prepared." 

He  took  her  hand,  as  he  spoke,  and  placed  a  beauti 
ful  little  gold  thimble  on  her  finger.  "There,  that's  to' 
encourage  you  in  industry." 

"Thank  you,  sir ;  oh !  it's  a  little  beauty !  I  must  run- 
and  show  it  to  papa.  But  I  must  not  forget  my  polite 
ness,"  she  added,  hastily  throwing  open  the  drawing- 
room  door.  "Come  in,  Mr.  Travilla." 

She  waited  quietly  until  the  usual  greetings  were 
exchanged,  then  went  up  to  her  father  and  showed  her 
new  gift. 

He  quite  entered  into  her  pleasure,  and  remarked, 
with  a  glance  at  Miss  Stevens,  "that  her  friends  were 
very  kind." 

The  lady's  hopes  rose.  He  was  then  pleased  with 
her  attention  to  his  child,  even  though  he  did  not  alto 
gether  approve  her  choice  of  a  gift. 

There  was  a  large  party  to  dinner  that  day,  and  the 
children  came  down  to  the  dessert.  Miss  Stevens,  who 
had  contrived  to  be  seated  next  to  Mr.  Dinsmore,  made 
an  effort,  on  the  entrance  of  the  juveniles,  to  have, 
Elsie  placed  on  her  other  side;  but  Mr.  Travilla  was 
too  quick  for  her,  and  had  his  young  favorite  on  his 
knee  before  she  could  gain  her  attention. 

The  lady  was  disappointed,  and  Elsie  herself  only 
half  satisfied ;  but  the  two  gentlemen,  who  thoroughly 
understood  Miss  Stevens  and  saw  through  all  her 
manoeuvres,  exchanged  glances  of  amusement  and  sat 
isfaction. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  311 

After  dinner  Mr.  Travilla  invited  Elsie,  Carry,  Lucy, 
and  Mary,  to  take  a  ride  in  his  carriage,  which  invita 
tion  was  joyfully  accepted  by  all — Mr.  Dinsmore  giv 
ing  a  ready  consent  to  Elsie's  request  to  be  permitted 
to  go. 

They  had  a  very  merry  time,  for  Mr.  Travilla  quite 
laid  himself  out  for  their  entertainment,  and  no  one 
knew  better  than  he  how  to  amuse  ladies  of  their  age. 
It  was  nearly  dark  when  they  returned,  and  Elsie 
went  at  once  to  her  room  to  be  dressed  for  the  even 
ing.  But  she  found  it  unoccupied — Aunt  Chloe,  as  it 
afterward  appeared,  having  gone  down  to  the  quarter 
to  carry  some  of  the  little  girl's  gifts  to  one  or  two 
who  were  too  old  and  feeble  to  come  up  to  the  house 
to  receive  them. 

Elsie  rang  the  bell,  waited  a  little,  and  then,  feeling 
impatient  to  be  dressed,  ran  down  to  the  kitchen  to  see 
what  had  become  of  her  nurse. 

A  very  animated  discussion  was  going  on  there,  just 
at  that  moment,  between  the  cook  and  two  or  three  of 
her  sable  companions,  and  the  first  words  that  reached 
the  child's  ears,  as  she  stood  on  the  threshold,  were,  "I 
tell  you,  you  ole  darkie,  you  dunno  nuffin'  'bout  it! 
Massa  Horace  gwine  marry  dat  bit  ob  paint  an'  finery ! 
no  such  ting !  Massa's  got  more  sense." 

The  words  were  spoken  in  a  most  scornful  tone,  and 
Elsie,  into  whose  childish  mind  the  possibility  of  her 
father's  marrying  again  had  never  entered,  stood  spell 
bound  with  astonishment. 

But  the  conversation  went  on,  the  speakers  quite  un 
conscious  of  her  vicinity. 

It  was  Pompey's  voice  that  replied. 


312  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

"Ef  Marse  Horace  don't  like  her,  what  for  they 
been  gwine  ridin'  ebery  afternoon?  will  you  tell  me 
dat,  darkies?  an'  don't  dis  niggah  see  him  sit  beside 
her  mornin',  noon,  an'  night,  laughin'  an'  talkin'  at  de 
table  an'  in  de  parlor?  an'  don't  she  keep  a  kissin'  little 
Miss  Elsie,  an'  callin'  her  pretty  critter,  sweet  critter, 
an'  delike?" 

"She  ma  to  our  sweet  little  Miss  Elsie !  Bah !  I  tell 
you,  Pomp,  Marse  Horace  got  more  sense,"  returned 
the  cook,  indignantly. 

"Aunt  Chloe  don't  b'lieve  no  such  stuff,"  put  in 
another  voice;  "she  says  Marse  Horace  couldn't  put 
such  trash  in  her  sweet  young  mistis's  place." 

"Aunt  Chloe's  a  berry  fine  woman,  no  doubt/'  ob 
served  Pomp  disdainfully,  "but  I  reckon  Marse  Horace 
ain't  gwine  to  infide  his  matermonical  intentions  to 
her ;  and  I  consider  it  quite  consequential  on  Marster's 
being  young  and  handsome  that  he  will  take  another 
wife." 

The  next  speaker  said  something  about  his  having 
lived  a  good  while  without,  and  though  Miss  Stevens 
uras  setting  her  cap,  maybe  he  wouldn't  be  caught. 
But  Elsie  only  gathered  the  sense  of  it,  hardly  heard 
the  words,  and,  bounding  away  like  a  frightened  deer 
to  her  own  room,  her  little  heart  beating  wildly  with  a 
confused  sense  of  suffering,  she  threw  herself  on  the 
bed.  She  shed  no  tears,  but  there  was,  oh!  such  a 
weight  on  her  heart,  such  a  terrible  though  vague 
sense  of  the  instability  of  all  earthly  happiness. 

There  Chloe  found  her,  and  wondered  much  what 
ailed  her  darling,  what  made  her  so  silent,  and  yet  so 
restless.,  and  caused  such  a  deep  flush  on  her  cheek. 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  313 

She  feared  she  was  feverish,  her  little  hand  was  so 
hot  and  dry ;  but  Elsie  insisted  that  she  was  quite  well, 
and  so  Chloe  tried  to  think  it  was  only  fatigue. 

She  would  fain  have  persuaded  the  little  girl  to  lie 
still  upon  her  bed  and  rest,  and  let  her  tea  be  brought 
to  her  there ;  but  Elsie  answered  that  she  would  much 
rather  be  dressed,  and  join  her  young  companions  in 
the  nursery.  They,  too,  wondered  what  ailed  her,  she 
was  so  very  quiet  and  ate  almost  nothing  at  all.  They 
asked  if  she  was  sick.  She  only  shook  her  head.  "Was 
she  tired,  then?"  "Yes,  she  believed  she  was,"  and 
she  leaned  her  head  wearily  on  her  hand. 

But,  indeed,  most  of  the  party  seemed  dull;  they  had 
gone  through  such  a  round  of  pleasure  and  excitement, 
for  the  last  two  or  three  days,  that  now  a  reaction 
was  beginning,  and  they  wanted  rest,  especially  the 
very  little  ones,  who  all  retired  quite  early,  when  Elsie 
and  her  mates  joined  their  parents  in  the  drawing- 
room. 

Elsie  looked  eagerly  around  for  her  father,  the 
moment  she  entered  the  room.  He  was  beside  Miss 
Stevens,  who  was  at  the  piano,  performing  a  very  diffi 
cult  piece  of  music.  He  was  leaning  over  her,  turning 
the  leaves,  and  apparently  listening  with  a  great  deal 
of  pleasure,  for  she  was  really  a  fine  musician. 

Elsie  felt  sick  at  heart  at  the  sight — although  a  few 
(  hours  before  it  would  have  given  her  no  concern — and 
'.  found  it  very  difficult  to  listen  to  and  answer  the  re 
marks  Mrs.  Carrington  was  making  to  her  about  her 
Christmas  presents,  and  the  nice  ride  they  had  had  that 
afternoon. 

Mr.  Travilla  wras  watcbimr  for  •  he  had  noticed,  as 


3H  ELSIE   DINSMORE 

soon  as  she  came  in,  the  sad  and  troubled  look  which 
had  come  over  her  face,  and,  following  the  glance  of 
her  eyes,  he  guessed  at  the  cause. 

He  knew  there  was  no  danger  of  the  trial  that  she 
feared,  and  would  have  been  glad  to  tell  her  so;  but 
he  felt  that  it  was  too  delicate  a  subject  for  him  to 
venture  on ;  it  might  seem  too  much  like  meddling  in 
Mr.  Dir-smore's  affairs.  But  he  did  the  next  best 
thing — got  the  four  little  girls  into  a  corner,  and  tried 
to  entertain  them  with  stories  and  charades. 

Elsie  seemed  interested  for  a  time,  but  every  now 
and  then  her  eyes  would  wander  to  the  other  side  of 
the  room,  where  her  father  still  stood  listening  to  Miss 
Stevens'  music. 

At  length  Mr.  Travilla  was  called  away  to  give  his 
opinion  about  some  tableaux  the  young  ladies  were 
arranging;  and  Elsie,  knowing  it  was  her  usual  time 
for  retiring,  and  not  caring  to  avail  herself  of  her 
father's  permission  to  stay  up  until  nine  o'clock,  stole 
quietly  away  to  her  room  unobserved  by  any  one,  and 
feeling  as  if  Miss  Stevens  had  already  robbed  her  of 
her  father. 

She  wiped  away  a  few  quiet  tears,  as  she  went,  and 
was  very  silent  and  sad,  while  her  mammy  was  pre 
paring  her  for  bed.  She  hardly  knew  how  to  do  with 
out  her  good-night  kiss,  but  feeling  as  she  did,  it  had 
seemed  quite  impossible  to  ask  for  it  while  Miss 
Stevens  was  so  near  him. 

When  she  knelt  down  to  pray,  she  became  painfully 
conscious  that  a  feeling  of  positive  dislike  to  that  lady 
had  been  creeping  into  her  heart,  and  she  asked  ear 
nestly  to  be  enabled  to  cut  it  away.  But  she  prayed, 


ELSIE   DINSMORE  315 

also,  that  she  might  be  spared  the  trial  that  she  feared, 
if  God's  will  were  so;  and  she  thought  surely  it  was 
because  she  had  found  out  that  Miss  Stevens  was  not 
good,  not  truthful,  or  sincere. 

"Perhaps  dear  papa  will  come  to  say  good-night 
before  I  am  asleep/'  she  murmured  to  herself  as, 
calmed  and  soothed  by  thus  casting  her  burden  on  the 
Lord,  she  laid  her  head  upon  her  pillow. 

He,  however,  had  become  interested  in  the  subject 
of  the  tableaux,  and  did  not  miss  his  little  girl  until 
the  sound  of  the  clock  striking  ten  reminded  him  of 
her,  and  he  looked  around  expecting  to  see  her  still  in 
the  room ;  but,  not  seeing  her,  he  asked  Lucy  Carring- 
ton  where  she  was. 

"Oh !"  said  Lucy,  "she's  been  gone  these  two  hours, 
I  should  think !  I  guess  she  must  have  gone  to  bed." 

"Strange  that  she  did  not  come  to  bid  me  good 
night,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  low  tone,  more  as  if  thinking 
aloud  than  speaking  to  Lucy. 

He  hastily  left  the  room. 

Mr.  Travilla  followed. 

"Dinsmore,"  said  he. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  stopped,  and  Travilla,  drawing  him 
to  one  side,  said  in  an  undertone,  "I  think  my  little 
friend  is  in  trouble  to-night." 

"Ah !"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  startled  look,  "what  can 
it  be?  I  did  not  hear  of  any  accident — she  has  not 
been  hurt?  is  not  sick?  tell  me,  Travilla,  quickly,  if 
anything  ails  my  child." 

"Nothing,  nothing,  Dinsmore,  only  you  know  ser 
vants  will  talk,  and  children  have  ears,  and  eyes,  too, 


ELSIE   DINSMORE 

sometimes,  and  I  saw  her  watching  you  to-night  with 
a  very  sad  expression." 

"Nonsense!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Dinsmore,  growing 
very  red  and  looking  extremely  vexed;  "I  wouldn't 
have  had  such  thoughts  put  into  the  child's  head  for 
any  money.  Are  you  sure  of  it,  Travilla?" 

"I  am  sure  she  was  watching  you  very  closely  to 
night,  and  looking  very  miserable." 

"Poor  darling !"  murmured  the  father.  "Thank  you, 
Travilla,"  shaking  his  friend  heartily  by  the  hand.^ 
"Good-night;  I  shall  not  be  down  again  if  you  will  be 
so  good  as  to  excuse  me  to  the  others." 

And  he  went  up  the  stairs  almost  at  a  bound,  and 
the  next  moment  was  standing  beside  his  sleeping 
child,  looking  anxiously  down  at  the  little  flushed 
cheeks  and  tear-swollen  eyes,  for,  disappointed  that 
he  did  not  come  to  bid  her  good-night,  she  had  cried 
herself  to  sleep. 

"Poor  darling!"  he  murmured  again,  as  he  stooped 
over  her  and  kissed  away  a  tear  that  still  trembled  on 
her  eyelash. 

He  longed  to  tell  her  that  all  her  fears  were  ground 
less,  that  none  other  could  ever  fill  her  place  in  his 
heart,  but  he  did  not  like  to  wake  her,  and  so,  pressing 
another  light  kiss  on  her  cheek,  he  left  her  to  dream  on 
unconscious  of  his  visit. 


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TO— *•  2600  Tolmon  Hall  642-4209 


LOAN 

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2                        I3 
9  QUARTER  LOAW 

4 

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o  1  2  1985 

SUBJECT  TO  RECAUL 

RECD  WG2r85-9AM 

SEMESTER 

.OAN                ^f"001  °  4  2003 

MAY  1  2  1 

ggl        ,^VLsi)CTs05  ?f}M 

^4(  «^vf  ^r^' 

RFP'fl 

rrn  "*  ?  *Q^ 

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ntUU 

N^ 

RECTD  SEP  ^5  %, 

FORM  NO.  DD10, 


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